


More than Light to Share

by Billywick, selwyn



Category: Defense of the Ancients | Dota, Dota 2
Genre: M/M, Other, liberal headcanon usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-08 11:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 96,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10385901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick/pseuds/Billywick, https://archiveofourown.org/users/selwyn/pseuds/selwyn
Summary: In the eternal struggle of the Radiant and Dire Ancient, rivalries are not the only thing formed by those that have pledged their power to the war. Bored by the world and the defense, the Invoker finds a new point of interest in the one mage that would dare silence his glorious voice.[Or alternatively, finally the longer fic that my OTP deserves]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Liberal use of in-game/out of game headcanons. There's a lot more thoughts I have about the heroes being bound to the Ancients...

The air before a battle was always a little taut with tension. Even though this war had gone on for years now and many of the heroes involved were old hands at it, none of them could repress the slight shudder of anticipation that thrilled up their spines when the clock ticked down. Death was not permanent and enemies were gained and lost within hours, but the adrenaline-pumped rush of battle was the same for everyone.

Well. Almost everyone.

Far from the others but still within the boundaries of his camp, Kael looked out to the latest parcel of land that would be their battlefield for today. It was similar to the others he’d known - creepers, towers, lanes, and all - and wasn’t worthy of his further interest. Even the beasts that tended to hide in the foggy brush were insignificant, ultimately.

His three reagents circled his shoulders idly, illuminating their surroundings in their arcane glow. Normally, he would not devote so much of his attention to the battlefield - why should he, after all? He was beyond the petty struggles between mortals that would turn to dust if he turned his head. But today was different.

The Radiant and Dire Ancients picked up new heroes all the time. Some of them were… vaguely intriguing for the power they bore, but most were boring wastes of space and time. Kael had turned his eyes on a few before passing them over as unimportant. A new  _ hero _ had entered the Radiant Ancient’s service this time. Another petty creature of some kind who the other mages under the Dire Ancient had sworn had stolen their magic and minds out on the battlefield, who had to be some kind of mage-killer like the one who’d proclaimed himself  _ Anti-Mage _ .

It was all supremely brainless, of course. More likely that these pissants had lost their wits in the heat of battle and then chose to blame their enemy for their own incompetence. That, or they were even weaker than Kael had thought and let themselves be subdued - which was equally contemptible, in his opinion.

Still, it meant a new enemy who’d yet to experience the crushing weight of his heel. Kael would show him the  _ true _ power of a real mage and let him know that his trifling victories meant nothing in the grand scope of things, then let his worthless allies clean up after.

The reagents flared a fraction brighter as he heard the telltale sound of the Ancients waking and preparing to add another bout to their ceaseless struggle. The others were getting ready, but Kael spent no such time. He was poised at his own lane, magic readied to flatten yet another series of stupidly brave idiots.

 

Noise, noise and more horrendous noise. Ever since he’d arrived, there was nothing but chatter. This war did not feel like one. More of an everlasting tug between two enormous dogs over the same pathetic old rope. Still.

He was here. Out of insistence, he’d come. Out of friendship, he stayed. Magina had promised that this was the key to ending magic. That this war, once it was over, would open up the path to putting a stop to all sorcery.

Nortrom indulged him. And the noise. Magic was a part of the world and would not so easily be torn asunder from it, but Nortrom would like to see the Anti-Mage try.

What a presumptuous title Magina had gathered for himself. But here, on this field of battle disguised as a stretch of forest pathways, everyone held some sort of title for themselves. Some called gods, guardians and prophets. Some were simply here to brawl. There was no sense in this noise, no final goal for any of the creatures and people gathered here. Nortrom had questioned and observed, and still arrived at no answer.

He had, however, arrived with the march of the creeps, their high-pitched calls and chirps the signal of bracing for battle. Whatever came at him in this lane...it had better not cast spells. He adjusted his pauldrons and gauntlets, glaive smooth and ready in his hand, shield hefted at his shoulder. Please, don’t let it be that enormous spider or the loudly screeching demon woman. His headaches had been nightly after every battle and no matter how much he silenced around him, the noise never faded.

The horn of battle sounded, and Nortrom stepped from the trees into the lane, expectant and tense.

 

The fog cleared for him as he moved forward. Kael outpaced the insipid creeps before they could get too close, and sent a quelling glance at the hero who’d tried to follow him down the lane. They seemed to think better of their stupidity and slunk away, probably to join their compatriots in the outskirts where the belonged.

His reagents spread out as he rifled through his memory for his opening spell. First blood would go to him, of course, anything less was unacceptable. He passed the Dire’s tower, which flickered with fiery eldritch light but did not activate as it recognized his presence. More fog dispersed the closer he drew to the metaphorical line that separated the Radiant’s grounds from that of the Dire’s.

_ Quas. Quas. Exort. _

The ice wall that sprung up from the grass neatly blocked the Radiant tower’s preliminary attack. Creeps flowed around Kael as they moved to draw its fire and he flexed his fist.

Enemies tended to come this way as often as those of his side did. It was their misfortune that brought them to him and with a flick of his fingers -  _ Quas. Wex. Exort. _ \- a sonic wave flashed out to devastate the senses of whatever fool who came this way. With that handled, Kael turned his attention on the tower. Destroying it would be simpler without  _ flies _ obstructing his attention.

 

It was a good piece of advice that kept Nortrom behind his creeps at a fair distance. He saw the spells, he felt the magic, he could see with what ease they were cast. But it wasn’t just the casual use of such advanced arcane constructs, or the silence in which they had been called to life.

He had heard of the Invoker. The Arsenal Magus. Apparently, the summit of all things magical prowess. Once upon a time, he’d been bred in this mage’s image. To become as much a threat as this...elf. Yes. He was definitely an elf, strikingly handsome, wrapped in so much cloth he resembled some sort of exotic flower...Nortrom had to snap himself out of his frozen stance. He must not have been in vision, because the Invoker did not pause to continue his assault on the tower. 

He could cast spells without speaking. He could ruin this entire lane and end today’s battle, if Nortrom didn’t put a halt to it.

Silencer in a war. He never would have thought it. His shoulders ached with tension as he lifted his glaive and whispered a curse onto the blades, before throwing it with all might. 

 

The whisper of air tipped him off, but that did not matter. The glaive struck the tree off to the side of Kael instead and he spared a moment to afford it a sneer. Could the incompetence of the Radiant really know no bounds?

His gaze flicked to the source of the throw. It was a person, clad in gear too heavy to let his race be known, carrying an equally bulky shield of some sort. Kael was about to slap him aside with another spell when he felt the slight slowness in his limbs, the unsettling feeling of something being pulled out of him.

So this one knew how to fight a mage with more than just arms. It was too bad he wasn’t fighting just  _ any _ mage, however.

Maintaining the ice wall took a second of his attention, then he was free to assault the newest arrival. Glaive. Magic. Shield. Kael couldn’t quite place him - his dress wasn’t familiar to his mental catalogue of people. That was nothing new, since he tended to pass over most of them, but Kael recognized elven design by principle and  _ this _ particular individual tripped none of his markers.

So, the newest recruit, was it? He didn’t seem as impressive as the other mages made him out to be. As Kael expected.

“I’ll not be interrupted,” he said coldly.  _ Quas. Wex. Wex. _ A tornado rushed at the hero. If he handled this quickly, the drain on his reserves would not matter. “If you are so eager for your  _ defeat _ , then have it.”

 

There was nothing slow or unchallenging about this position he found himself in. He had the soulless eyes of a mage on him, and a whirling storm raging his way. Nortrom knew it was too late to cancel the spell once it left the Invoker, he’d studied this mage for years, even if the specifics of what he could do were never recorded in any one place at one time.

He planted his shield into the ground and crouched behind it. Hopefully, it would absorb most of the damage as the tornado whipped at him, ripping at his robes and creating a terrible howl in his helmet. It gave him a few seconds to think, and for his glaive to return. Of course it was no ordinary weapon. Having a projectile would be a terrible idea if there was no retrieving it. It cut itself out of the tree, wood chips flaking off before it whirled back towards Nortrom right after the tornado subsided.

Defeat? Oh no, not this day.  There was no time to waste, no powers to withhold. The Invoker had a reputation of killing his opponents quickly, mercilessly. Nortrom heaved his shield up and caught his glaive in a surprisingly agile spin for someone half-clad in armor. The Invoker was not far from him, his silence should buy him enough time.

“ **None shall cast** .”

Blessed, blessed silence descended unto the world.

One moment, Kael was preparing to wipe out his enemy. The next… nothing.

It felt like someone had literally snatched the magic from between his fingers. It wasn’t the devouring hollowness that mana draining caused, nor did it feel like anything was blocking him. His magic simply… would… not… come!

It was fortunate that a few creeps remained to draw the tower’s fire as he quickly stepped out of range before his ice wall fell. Kael opened his mouth to speak but no sound came. He could feel his mouth move, his lips and tongue working in tandem to make the right vowels and syllables, but the sound refused to cross the threshold of his mouth. It felt like trying to breathe out, but having something block it. He didn’t do anything as plebian as claw at his mouth, but his gaze narrowed as he looked towards the distant figure of the hero who’d done this.

This was the first time he’d ever encountered something like this. His long years had let him meet a number of enemies who’d tried to steal his magic, to turn it against him, to even consume it but  _ this _ … this was not the blocking or the subsuming or the draining of magic. This was more akin to the  _ absence _ of it than anything else.

His fingers flexed. His power would return in due time. Kael could then pry the answers for this particular act out of the hero. Against his better judgment, his interest was piqued.  _ This _ was the reason he allowed himself to participate in this meaningless war. Not to satisfy the Ancients, or for superfluous personal pursuits, but to seek out the strange and the unknown, and add it to his mental library.

In a rush, like a wave of water filling in a hole, all sound - and magic - came back to Kael. His eyes flared with the rush of power and his reagents, which had floated dormant and dark, burst into light and flame once again.

“You,” he thundered, pointing imperiously, “tell me your name.”

It was a high honor to bestow on someone he’d just met, but anomalies were always of  _ interest _ .

Nortrom should have done more in the precious few seconds of safety. Instead, he had observed the mage and his floating sphere. He was impressive, truly. Even silenced, Nortrom felt the pulse of magic, almost as if he was physically next to the elf. It was...yes, it was as he expected from someone of the Invoker’s reputation. The most powerful mage of them all. They shouldn’t have their battle here and now. They should be on a grander stage than across a shallow river, surrounded and watched by creeps.

And then, instead of an attack, there was a demanding question. Almost a command he felt compelled to answer. Let the Invoker know his foe had a title of his own, a reputation that had lesser mages shiver.

But would that be a poor decision? Idle chatter hardly seemed appropriate on the dawn of battle.

“If you have not understood that by now, you are not as intelligent as your reputation claims you to be, Invoker.”

Nortrom could enter a fight of sharp wit as easily as physical one. The glaive lifted, though he had no intention of throwing it before he could get into closer range.

Ah. Of course  _ he _ would know who Kael was, that much was certain. And why wouldn’t he, after all? The only mage on this battlefield of any worth was the one standing before him.

“Be honored that I would deign to learn your name before I crush you,” Kael told him. With his power returned, he could begin his advance once more. Each step he took brought him closer to the hero - and his glaive too, but that was no concern of his. It could be slapped aside like the petty toy it was.

“That power of yours - it is the same power that my worthless allies spoke of. I would know of it.”

His power? Of course. A silence, to a mage, was more than a terrifying absence of sound. They felt it, all the way into their cores, the missing piece of what they considered natural. The void he’d known all of his life, spread out to the battlefield. For an instant, everyone was united in the same, cloying fear that their own voices were lost forever. It was glorious.

And here was the Invoker, speaking as if it was common practice to halt a battle to exchange idle information. It was almost intriguing.

“I am Nortrom the Silencer. And I will not be crushed by the likes of you.”

It was his destiny to defeat this mage and revel in victory. Or something like it.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Nortrom the Silencer _ . It was an apt name for what he did, Kael had to admit, though this  _ silencing _ would not work on him anymore if he had anything to say about it. The rest of the battle forgotten - and why  _ should _ he expend his valuable time and attention when he had something  _ far _ more arresting to deal with? - and the tower was destroyed as an afterthought.

“You dared interrupt  _ my _ concentration,” Kael said archly, “be glad that my only price is knowledge rather than your life.”

He’d run into curiosities every so often throughout the extensive eternities that made up his venerated existence. None of them could ever rise to match  _ his _ splendor but, rarely, there were instances of curiosities that he deemed worthy of his attention. This…  _ Silencer _ was one such oddity.

_ Quas. Quas. Quas. _ It would not do to have his quarry slip away too soon, after all.

“I am the _ Invoker _ ,” he declared, striding past the rubble of the tower, “and it is  _ your _ joy to behold me. I allow you to live because I have decided that you shall. Just for that generosity, you should be on your  _ knees  _ thanking me.”

 

Nortrom was thinking of a few choice things he’d be doing in this mage’s presence, and kneeling was not one of them. The sheer pomp and arrogance oozing from the Invoker was as overwhelming as his magical presence. Was this why his reputation painted him as the best and worst of all the mages? Nortrom could see how that may just be the case.

“Allow me to thank you for _ talking  _ so much.”

The curse clasped at Invoker only this time, and it would soon snare him into silence the more he struggled to fend it off. Nortrom turned and headed into the forest whilst he could, not particularly eager to see what momentous spells the Invoker had to hunt him down with. He knew when he was outmatched, at least in terms of magical ability. Some mages had to be worn down. Usually, powerful adepts and such required long battles to drain them enough for Nortrom to take them down. That’s why he carried both shield and glaives as well as armor. He fought his own battles, where he chose to. And no one survived long as a hunter of mages if they didn’t know when to retreat.

The Invoker was more than a handful. Nortrom took cover. His first tower had already fallen, and with it he’d lost a good chunk of land. There were another two to go.

 

“I see that my majesty overwhelms you!” Kael gloated as the Silencer left the lane while he could. His spell hadn’t worked, but that was all right. Clearly, this one had realized how dearly outmatched he was and chose the better half of valor.

His reagents flared as he prepared a spell, ready to hound after the heels of the hero. Hand raised, he called, “A celestial inferno!”  _ Wex. Exort. Exort. _

And… nothing? No meteors rained down from the sky. Magic didn’t even spark from his hand.

“Did - Did I  _ miscast _ ?” he said. Or, meant to say. Again, the choking feeling of not being able to speak despite his efforts came upon him and his temper flared.

_ That accursed mongrel! _ The Silencer must’ve cast this - this  _ spell _ to give himself time to flee. Pain rattled through him as he realized the second half of this ability. Not only did it silence his magic, but it also hurt him.  _ Him! _

He turned blazing eyes on the direction that the Silencer had taken off in. This lack of knowledge on his enemy could no longer be allowed - this battle and its results could wait. He had to know  _ more _ .

 

Nortrom had made it into the jungle. The lane was no longer an option, what with the Invoker there. It wasn’t his nature to run away from a fight, and in his mind, it was merely a tactical retreat. Obviously, he couldn’t confront the elf head-on. His silencing only lasted for seconds with a mage this powerful...and somehow, separating that head from that body seemed an unfitting end for such an ancient being. They shared a race, but that didn’t afford them familiarity, did it? Invoker looked the classical beauty of every elven tale; golden hair, sharp angles, magic blazing in his body.

Shock washed over him as he caught the stray thought. What did that matter in this situation he’d gotten himself into? The looks of a mage didn’t affect his fate.

_ Regroup. Think. Settle down _ . Nortrom leaned on the radiant shrine. It’s bright blue light flickered gently, reassuringly even through the darkness of the trees all around. He sighed, pulling off his helmet. Maybe he was just letting the nerves of his first battle for the ancients get to him. The messy knot he’d pulled his hair into was already damp with sweat and sticking to his face and ears. He really, really needed to calm himself and think up a strategy.

 

Kael rarely stepped into the jungle. It was dark, damp, and filthy all around, and he saw no reward in trying to kill the myriad beasts that lurked within its depths. The Silencer, however, had ran here so here was where he would go.  _ Exort _ burned away the puddles at his feet and hardened the mud to a crust that he could step over, and Kael made good time through the brush by burning and freezing his way through. No spells were coming to him and he was still silent, but he could feel the spell’s effects slowly beginning to wane as the seconds trickled down.

There!

His power returned to him with a flash.  _ Quas. Exort. Exort! _

A forge spirit flared to life before him and Kael pointed in the direction that the Silencer had disappeared to. “After him!”

The forest should have been silent around him. It was not yet time to skirmish in deeper territory like this, most of the fights took place on the lanes first and foremost. Nortrom allowed the safety of the shrine to lull him a little more as he rested shield and glave on the carved marble, instead inspecting his armor and plotting out a strategy. He’d need help, much as he was loathed to admit, because a direct assault concentrated on him would end poorly. But it was his first middle lane battle, and to admit to defeat so readily was humiliating.

Someone was walking, swiftly, through the forest. A twig snapped and the absence of birds indicated nothing good. Nortrom reached for his shield and weapon, ready to make a stand at the shrine. If necessary, allies could teleport to this location.

A lumbering, hell-fire shrouded creature floated into the clearing. Nortrom didn’t hesitate to enchant his glaive and throw it at the thing. 

 

The forge spirit’s shriek was all the compass Kael needed. The construct was crumbling, scrabbling at the weapon buried in its chest, when Kael burst through the brush and it was already dying as he stepped into the clearing. He barely cared for the sputtering flames of the construct as he straightened, bathed in the light of the shrine.

“Did you believe that you can slip away that easily?” he asked. “Your trick with the silence is clever, but it will not quell the prowess of my totality.”

_ Quas. Wex. _ The third part of the spell was held back. “You are presented with two options, Silencer. You will recognize the inevitability of your subjugation and keep whatever shreds of dignity you possess by providing the answers I seek. Or, you will struggle - and fall. It would be wise of you to pick the former.”

 

Out of pure principle, he should face death with dignity. Bowing or obeying this obelisk of arrogance seemed very inherently wrong. Magina would be disgusted, but Magina also wasn’t here. Nortrom was, and he didn’t wish to die first in this battle. 

Choosing to speak with Invoker couldn’t be as bad as the humiliation of an early defeat. He schooled his expression, realizing he had yet to replace his helmet. Shield kept on his arm, he rested the glaive at his hip and squeezed the helmet back onto his head. He could at least look the part.

 

“No,” Kael snapped when the Silencer tried to replace his helmet. “Did I tell you that you may do anything more than offer surrender? Remove that.”

In the light, he could make out what seemed like the faintest of points on his ears. But the Silencer was dark-haired and hard-faced - surely he was no elf? He looked like no elf Kael had seen.

“I’ve never encountered one with that power. Just what exactly are you?”

 

What _ was  _ he? Nortrom couldn’t not take offense at that. He may not look the part, but he was still an elf of pride in his kind and his skills. It was...an insult to think the Invoker had never heard of him. He supposed he still wasn’t considered the biggest threat to mages yet, which meant he needed the fame of a victory here all the more. A victorious war always spread the names of its heroes, did it not? Losers and the dead were given no honor and no infamy.

“I am...the Silencer, I silence those who cast spells and alike,” it wasn’t an eloquent answer, but what else did such a rudely phrased question deserve?

Nortrom really would have liked a conversation full of subtle threats and such, but not under these circumstances, with him sweaty and unarmed in a forest, bird’s nest of hair on his head and no protective helm on, his embarrassingly short ears on display. This was not the image of the fierce Silencer who conquered mages he’d wanted to imprint upon the Dire.

 

“That much was obvious,” Kael said deprecatingly, “No. What I wish to know is  _ how _ you accomplished that.” No branch of magic  _ he’d _ studied had replicated that exacting feeling of nothingness. The draining, the glaives and armor… those were all common. What Kael wanted to know was the  _ source _ behind that fascinating power. He’d mets gods, elemental, and every other lesser being that aspired at divinity, but none of them had ever succeeded at  _ smothering _ his magic.

As he paced closer, he could see more of the Silencer. He was an ungraceful thing under the helm but there was no mistaking the short, harsh slant of his ears. “You are an elf,” he said, more to himself than anything. How strange. What kind of…  _ backwards _ sort of creature was  _ this _ ? He was blue-eyed and dark-haired, stocky under the armor, and possessed something that, at first glance, seemed like an  _ opposition _ to magic itself.

In the words of a scholar he’d met once:  _ curiouser and curiouser _ .

“And, moreover, did you think to use this…  _ ability _ of yours to silence  _ me _ ? Did you believe that your oddity could  _ ever _ even  _ begin  _ to approach the realm of competing with  _ my _ vast knowledge of the arcane?”

 

The conclusion of his race sounded like an ill-worded accusation, the gaze mustering him like two piercing daggers. What sort of caliber was he being measured up against? The Invoker made it sound as if his talents were an affront, and perhaps to a mage, that held true. He couldn’t stand it. Being judged for his talent, or lack thereof, was the story of his entire life, and he had no intention of repeating it here in this war of heroes.

“I did not have to think of it. You were silenced. Even you cannot resist if I command your magic away from you. Do not underestimate what you do not  _ understand _ , Invoker.”

It was an ego boost of its own to know that this esteemed arsenal magus, this walking arcanery, did not understand or know of his talent. He was truly unique, the prophecy of Aeol Drias still upheld. Really, the Invoker could not have paid him a bigger compliment.

 

“Pah!” Kael swatted aside the angry words like they were flies meant to irritate him. “An interesting trick maybe, but ultimately just that - a trick.”

_ Exort _ wandered near his palm. The flames, cool against his skin, licked his palm as Kael narrowed his eyes in consideration. “You’ve silenced me twice, and twice it has been for naught. Understand the futility of your situation, and do not attempt a third.”

He could kill him here and now. It would take just finishing the incantation for the blast of sound to stun him, then maybe a sun strike to finish him off for good. He would not die permanently, no, but then Kael would lose his opportunity to study the Silencer. Pinning him down here in the jungle without the other pissants across the field was already fortunate on its own - why waste time and effort when the opportunity lay here, ripe for the taking?

“I am the Invoker,” Kael said for the second time that day. It seemed the Silencer needed another iteration to comprehend the gravity of that statement. “I’ve lived longer than whole empires. Whole races have formed and died as I walked this mortal world.  _ All _ can be known, and known by  _ me _ . Just as surely as I have collected memories of other beings like you, so shall I grasp your secrets. And, just as I  _ defeated _ those beings, so shall  _ you _ fall for me.”

 

Someone loved the sound of their own voice. Nortrom would grant the Invoker that it was a pleasant, deep tone, but the ceaseless pompous drivel it formed was tiresome. Did he really expect Nortrom to divulge the secrets of his talent so easily? When nothing was at stake but his pride? 

“I have never fallen, and I will not today. I stood against the Knights of the Fold and the Nest of Thorns. What I mastered, you cannot learn, Invoker. It would be foolish of you to persist.”

And it would also be foolish for him to remain in the jungle of the radiant ancient, where his presence could be seen by all of Nortrom’s allies. Surely, someone would teleport here soon in hopes to kill the famous mage.

“There are no other beings like me. And even your mind can’t grasp this,” the last word curse was stronger up close and personal, and Nortrom did need a break from that endlessly arrogant speech.

 

Implying  _ he _ could not learn something was  _ foolish _ . Nothing was beyond the scope of his mind, no magic was too complex or obscure to master. He’d mastered and forgotten more spells than this whelp even  _ heard _ of.

_ Exort! _ It was good that he had the incantation primed for the final blow. The sonic wave went off just as his voice was stolen once more, and his magic with it. The wave tore up chunks of earth and grass as it rushed towards the Silencer. From his last experience with this accursed power, the effects only lasted a few seconds at the most so the Silencer needed to be distracted just long enough until Kael’s power returned.

Still… that draining sensation. The subtle weakness in his fingers and their tremble when he kept them still. His mana was getting low. 

 

It wasn’t an opening to attack, once more, but Nortrom had to dodge the upheaval of the earth and trees, clinging to the shrine for protection and cover. If only he could get in range, get closer to this mage, then he could silence him with a blade or the steel of his gauntlets.

“Can you feel your mind slipping?” he called out once the wave of destruction had past, and he was off none the worse, though more tousled than before. 

 

Kael stalked closer. Even if he could not divine the mechanics behind this power, he could at least know of its particulars and be more prepared the next time he would face off with this elf.  _ Nortrom the Silencer _ was his name - Kael would have to look into that.

His sonic wave dissipated into the treeline, leaving behind the increasingly rumpled Silencer behind as it did.  _ Wex. Wex _ . The orb crackled with power as he drew closer. The pain would come soon, as would the silence.  _ Wex _ .

The spell failed, making him twitch in annoyance again. So this… particular spell on the Silencer’s part was one that caused spell failure. And hurt its target too, apparently, as Kael’s body felt weaker in the aftermath of the wave of pain. A deadly kind of power, then.

He counted down the seconds as he readied his orbs for the next spell.  _ Wex. Wex. _ The first iteration failed, but the curse had to wear off sooner or later. In his silence, he had no recourse for reply - that is, until the curse lifted.

_ Wex _ .

The spell went off successfully and Kael afforded himself a smug smirk as the electricity shot straight for the Silencer. The silence of the curse had lasted six seconds. More knowledge for the next battle. He would not be as easily silenced  _ then _ .

“No, but I see  _ you _ .”

 

There was no retort for that one on Nortrom’s lips as he collapsed, groaning in pain. Whatever that spell was, it had drained the mana even out of him. His shield and glaive and helmet lay strewn on the floor, covered in dirt and uprooted grass. This did not look good. First Blood, he was about to become it, all because he’d been unsure, hesitant. He should have aimed for that beautiful head when he had the chance.

But the shining light at the shrine would be his salvation, because apparently someone had finally noticed the raging magic in the forest and deigned to teleport to Nortrom’s side. 

It was, of course, Magina. With a seething scowl, he knelt down and picked up his elven companion and his belongings, easily handling his weight.

“Thou will pay for thy vile treachery,” he hissed in Kael’s direction, leaving the chance to fight in favour of disappearing from sight with Nortrom slouched across him.

 

Hm. Kael had only enough time sigh disdainfully at the Anti-Mage’s anger before they both disappeared from sight. He was left alone in the Radiant shrine’s light, still feeling the tingle of his mana pool slowly refilling. Lingering here would be no use - with the Silencer apparently gone, he would have to return to his lane and clear out the rabble there until he was brave enough to show his face before Kael again.

Idly, he touched his mouth as he began to depart. He needed a potion to recover from the curse. The strange choking sensation was gone but he still felt… odd.

What an odd creature indeed. But Kael would unravel him soon enough, if not today. It had only been the Anti-Mage’s untimely appearance that had prevented him from beginning his study here and now, but that simpleton could not always arrive on time. The Silencer would fall again, and then there would be  _ no one _ to pull him out of Kael’s fist.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Revels were really, in essence, useless excuses to fill up on wine and act foolish. Nortrom didn’t feel like the day had ended in victory, but everyone insisted that the Dire’s temporary destruction was reason enough to flood the local establishment and drink it dry. Magina, of course, abstained from such practices, preferring to train and meditate. He’d sent Nortrom off for the ‘experience’ of it all, but he could have warned him that it was a noisy affair for lesser mortals. Rowdy drinking, card games and contests were not the Silencer’s idea of a merry time, and he soon slipped out of the inn.

 

The night was cold, but not unpleasantly so. Without armor and helmet, he felt a little underdressed, but the ceasefire rule in this town was absolute. They all had battles every day. There was no need for bloodshed in their spare time too.

The town itself was a quaint little thing. Cobblestone roads, wooden houses stacked close together as if cozying up for heat. It was an entirely false front for the two war encampments nestled nearby. Nortrom had to wonder how impactful this war could really be, if enemies could be found drinking together the very next night.

Did no one find it suspicious that they continued every day, without question? Did no one seek to break the contract with the ancients to carry out their cumbersome rivalry?

Questions as such would remain unanswered as he strolled along the street. Perhaps he should return to the camp, find his tent again and simply rest. But he wasn’t tired, much the opposite. He was restless from today’s battle. His helplessness in the face of the Invoker weighed heavily on his mind. Here he was, the ultimate answer to magic, and he’d failed to shut up the arrogant, beautiful immortal on his very first day. Magina had not spoken any disappointment, but he felt judged nonetheless.

How he despised that feeling.

 

Normally, Kael abstained from the rowdy, mindless revelry his allies got up to when they were not languishing in battles. He found them dull, pointless, and more than a little draining - and his long years had given him access to greater and grander parties with much better company. The one time he  _ did _ sample one such occasion, early in his involvement in the war, thoroughly turned him off any further instances. It was, simply put, a waste of time.

Now, however, he had a greater purpose than the indulgences his allies took to. The little town their camps bordered was a strict non-hostile zone - which must’ve been a shocking concept to some of the more brutish cretins the Dire employed. The rule was honored most of the time, and those who broke it were punished severely. How or why Kael did not care to learn.

He waited until it was late before venturing nearer the town. Scrying let him know that the tavern was already bustling with activity. He didn’t even need to scry that, honestly, since he could hear the noise pollution from all the way over here.

_ Imbeciles _ .

Further searching let him finally locate the one he was seeking. He had not been in his camp as Kael expected, so he could only be here. That or he’d  _ left _ the boundaries of both camp or town, but Kael would’ve known if he had.

Sighting the broad back of the Silencer, there was only one obvious option.

“I would think that someone with a title such as yours would be drawn to the quiet locales and not  _ here _ with the rest of the halfwits.”

 

Nortrom whirled around, startled only for a moment. Last he heard that voice, it had cast spells to try and kill him. He was still growing used to this mundane external setting of the war, though he’d struggle with that until the end, he’d wager. 

“Invoker. I...”

_ I what? _

What was he supposed to say? Didn’t expect to meet my potentially greatest foe out here in the town’s tiny, quaint streets? Didn’t expect you to show up in any kind of casual setting, wearing soft robes? 

What did you say to someone who tried to kill you the same day?

“I wasn’t trying to visit a locale. I just wanted to see the town. There’s not much to it.”

Except this view right now, which was reminding him strongly that the Invoker was a beautiful elf with many talents and most of them would drive Nortrom up a wall. But he still looked remarkable, soft robes chosen only to flatter and enhance what was already flawless.

Nortrom sucked in air and berated himself. He was acting like a youngling, or at least, thinking like one. He propelled his hands into the pockets of his breeches and eyed the moon. It looked suspiciously full here. Might be Luna’s doing.

 

“Ah, yes. You  _ are _ our newest arrival to the war, are you not?” Kael paced closer to the Silencer. He was… not as he’d expected him to be. He’d thought he would be smaller, at least, without his armor. But the width of his shoulders and the girth of his arms under his simple clothes said that his stature was natural, and not crafted by cleverly illusive armor. Speaking of arms… they possessed an impressive tapestry of pale scars, both thick and thin, that seemed to go up well into the skin that was covered by clothing. Kael let his eyes skip over the view before he turned their judgmental gaze on the elf’s face.

Lined and tanned. It fit the rest of the image the Silencer presented. The delicate features of the normal elf, however proper, would not suit the body.

“This town is barely worth more than the stone it was built with,” he told him dismissively, “you waste your time if you thought to see anything of value in it. Accompanying me would be a worthier expenditure instead. At least you may  _ bask _ in my presence.”

 

“Didn’t I already do so today?” It was more attention than he’d expect from someone so arrogant, but something about the Invoker’s curiosity was interesting. He obviously did mean to investigate how Nortrom’s talents worked, if he came here just to steal his company. Was he dressed so invitingly on purpose too?

Maybe Nortrom shouldn’t have been so afraid this morning, if this was the pleasant aftermath of the Invoker’s piqued interest. Who knew if he really would have killed him there, at the shrine. 

“That was in jest. Your presence is much preferable to the rowdy celebrations of my...allies. It was a long battle, I would think they would use the night to prepare for new tactics, instead...they choose to be noisy.”

 

“You have a long way to go if you still retain expectations for the dullards that crowds Radiant’s wings,” Kael said. It was only a few steps to come to the Silencer’s side and, slowly, they walked together through the narrow roads of the town. Kael angled away from the tavern, if simply so he did not have the listen to the drunken singing that had begun.

“I have graced Dire with my esteemed presence for a great many years now, and the same can be said of the ones fortunate enough to label themselves my allies. This war is little more than a claim to glory for the nameless rabble, or a way to resolve a personal vendetta between individual heroes.” Kael spoke in a lecturing tone as he bestowed the Silencer his scathing opinions on the Radiant, the Dire, the war, and then the heroes on either side. Better he learn it all now from the most learned source than confront it on the battlefield.

“Across this black sea of ignorance, there are only a few points of light. Take it as my personal mission, if you will, to honor these points of light with my attention and grant them space in my mental archives.”

 

Oh? He was a point of light? Nortrom took the compliment in stride, keeping a level expression despite his overwhelming curiosity towards the ancient, famous elf. Truthfully, he had not expected the Invoker to show any sort of casual interaction towards anyone at all, so he really must be extraordinary in comparison to everyone else who might have garnered the mage’s attention for tonight.

Nortrom tried not to stare, really.

“That remains very much in line with what I have read of your studious immortality.”

Should he address him as Invoker? Kael? The use of his personal name seemed a step too far. This was...curious courtesy. That was all.

 

“I see you have studied your possible enemies. Astute of you. But I also see that your studies could not prepare you to meet the real figure behind it all.” Of course the Silencer had read about him. He, Invoker, was one of the more famous members of the Dire, after all. Most likely  _ the _ most famous member.

“Tell me - what did you think you would face?” He’d walked in so bravely in the beginning, though it had been for naught. His silencing might have been effective against any other mage who could’ve walked down the mid lane - it was his poor luck that fortune picked Kael this day. “Your power is interesting. Had it not been me you fought, you might have even gained first blood.”

But it had been Kael, so the Silencer had gotten thoroughly thrashed. “You put up an admirable - if futile - struggle. Certainly better than the ones who’ve had the misfortune of fighting me on their first day.”

 

It was compliment and insult, woven seamlessly together. Invoker had a way with words that could be aggravating as it could be eloquent. Nortrom found himself more amused by it, outside of the battlefield. Yes, this mage was old. Yes, he was pompous. But this constant reminding that he was, in fact, better than other people?

Nortrom couldn’t really take it at face value. But he indulged, for the sake of a conversation with someone who was not, in fact, rowdily drunk. Besides, he preferred the company of elves, and had not had it in a long time.

“It could have been anyone I faced today. I was hesitant, I will admit. My glaive does not usually miss my intended target. And of course I have studied my foes, yet you were the only one I was aware of long before I joined this war. There was nothing I could have done to prepare for facing you so soon.”

 

It was  _ good _ to be recognized as he should be.  _ His _ accomplishments were much more important than the petty infighting among the other races, and he was indeed the greatest mage this age and all the ages before that and all the ages after this would ever come to know. The Silencer probably had no idea how correct he was.

“There is no shame in that,” Kael told him, a touch smug, “Many dream of dominating me, but no one has ever succeeded. You will not be the first.”

He will not the first or last to dream of it either. But that was permissible. The inadequate needed dreams to keep them going.

“You are, however, the first to have ever done such a thing to my magic.” Kael could give him that little. “And I must admit that it draws my curiosity.”

 

That much was strikingly apparent. Nortrom took it for what it was; a weird little opportunity to get to know his future target to strike at.

“It is a very unique way of fighting magic. I developed it in my youth.”

Since he could never cast a spell, he made sure to use the void of magic within himself to force others into sharing his fate; nothing could be cast for six long seconds, on an entire battlefield. That was an achievement he could be and was proud of.

“I was bred to be a battle-mage. I did not meet expectations.”

 

That was  _ certainly _ an interesting tidbit. Kael cast his memories back to the many failed attempts to replicate his power. No mage, human or elf or any other race, could hope to cast as many spells as he could without hauling an entire library’s worth of books and tomes to race their memory. His accomplishment was as unreplicable as it was astonishing, but he could not blame his lessers for trying anyway.

Inadequacy and dreams, and all that.

“It is an unusual form of magic, then, to be a kind that exists only to quell other magic. Even if you did not meet requirements as expected, your caretakers must’ve seen the potential within you.” Kael wondered if that sort of magic could be recreated by his hand. He would need more time and study of the spells to understand them, and then time to experiment. “I have deemed it worthy of  _ my _ attention, when so many others have tried to beckon my eyes to them for centuries. It is only right that all others echo that thought.”

 

“Quite the contrary,” Nortrom would divulge a little personal history, if only to prove the Invoker wrong in his assumption, “my caretakers deemed me a failure when I could not so much as cast a hex.”

Instead, he’d been punished, brutally, until he stewed in silence over his peculiar gift. And in that contemplation, he had understood the void within him. It was quite the achievement for a child, but what else was he to do? The studies forced upon him taught him only that mages could do far more than he ever could dream of. 

As long as they were free to use their magic.

“Most mages are afraid of silence. They need spells and words to fill their minds, which they use so seldomly well. I remove that privilege from them. Their minds flow to me. And I can seal their magic permanently, if I have the time.”

 

“Then your caretakers were ignorants unable to see further than their own noses.” This was why Kael had stopped having expectations for anyone, outside of expectations of failure. There were too many drops in the sea of ignorance for him to believe any better of others.

“Most mages do not have even have minds to be siphoned,” he sniffed derisively. “I hope you cleared out that nest of rampant stupidity, then.”

But he was not here to discuss personal histories. Although it provided a useful starting point for him to explore, he wanted to know more about the  _ power _ . “You said you developed it as a youth. How did you mold it into workable spells?”

 

“Of course I cleared them out. I would not have them wrong another as they wronged me.” He also would not have them live anymore, but that detail did not need to be divulged just yet. They barely knew each other.

The spells were of interest to the Invoker. Could he learn them? Should Nortrom give him opportunity to try? Somehow, he’d know the answer to that should be no. A strong case could be made that the Invoker already knew plenty of dangerous magics, and another didn’t need to be added to the list.

However, Nortrom too was curious if the Invoker could even learn silencing, or if it was a natural gift Nortrom happened to possess alone.

“That process is a secret of my craft. I’d be a fool to expose them to you for free, Invoker.” 

 

“You think that I will not learn them eventually? I thought you’d know better than that, Silencer.”

It did not matter if the Silencer chose to release his secrets freely or not. If it was possible to learn, then Kael would learn it. “But it is interesting that you mention a price. Do you think that I will pay for your secrets?”

In his youth, spell trading had been incredibly common. When he’d been young and empty-minded, his greatest joy was trying to learn as many spells as possible. Now, however, with his mind already always full, it became a much more careful trade and barter. Kael often took years considering if it was worth purging one spell for another. Forgetting his Sempiternal Cantrap had taken nearly a decade of internal debate before he took that step.

What spell could he give up for this one?  _ Was _ he curious enough to search more? It all depended on the Silencer, really, and what his power  _ meant _ .

 

“A trade would be of no use to me. There are more than spells locked within your mind, Invoker. Even if I thought you could learn my spells, I doubt you’d be willing to give up the information I’d ask in turn.”

Of course, there were other things Nortrom would have of the handsome mage, but he doubted such a proposal would go over well. Did the Invoker even consider things on a physical realm anymore? If so, he probably didn’t trade in them. 

Those kind of things would have been scrawled into the scrolls about him.

“I suppose your company is a fine investment, however. I would not converse with the rabble. And remote as you may be, you are at least still elven in form.”

 

Kael gave him a sharp look at that remark. What was  _ that _ supposed to mean? He did not think the Silencer would so bold as to proposition him, though he didn’t entirely discount the possibility. Many others had tried before, and had been rebuffed with equal measures contempt and apathy.

“My company for your spells? That seems to be an unequal trade on my part. My time  _ is _ precious. Do you think so highly of yourself that you believe it would be worth it on my part?”

Were those curious spells really that important? Kael had no desire to  _ mingle _ . 

 

“An equal opportunity for us both to study,” Nortrom didn’t know what he was talking himself into, but he pursued it nonetheless. Here was the mage to end all mages, with all the spells in the world. If he could see, experience and study them, he’d know how to silence any challenge. And in turn, Invoker would be the only grand mage to know how to silence. Was that not a worthy trade?

“I will not let my mind grow idle in this war. You are the greatest mage this war knows. I could stand to see your magics without being at the receiving end each time.”

 

“You are indeed correct on all accounts,” Kael said consideringly, “there are no other mages with possessing even a fraction of the breadth of my skill; to learn from me would be a great privilege.”

He had no worry that any spell he might manage to impart on the Silencer would be turned against him. He’d said his caretakers had failed to teach him even a minor hex. And even if he really did manage a spell, it would never be to the same mastery as Kael himself.

“You make a solid point. But do not be so presumptuous as to think that I would seek you out like this out here with the brutes. If you desire my teachings so much, then you will come to  _ me _ .”

His tower had been built after Kael realized how utterly inadequate the furnishings Dire provided him with were. Someone of his prestige did  _ not _ sleep in tents with the rest of the grunts! 

Thus, he’d taken it upon himself to craft a masterful tower a good distance away from the two camps, with a plethora of protective runes and seals to ensure his privacy and security within his home. It was quiet, it was luxurious, and most importantly, it was _away_ _from the others_.

 

“To you. Outside of battles? I did not have plans to enter the Dire’s camp of my own accord,” Nortrom glanced at the Invoker, who just didn’t seem suitable to a life in a tent. Nortrom had slept in and on worse, but it was hardly a comfortable stay. He’d even prefer one of these wooden shacks in the town, though the tent offered a quiet location. And noise...well, Nortrom’s ears were especially sensitive to, so he avoided it at all costs.

“Mustn’t let anyone hear of it, if I do agree.”

 

_ Dire’s camp _ \- Kael sniffed at the mere  _ idea _ of him being anywhere near that mess of noise and crudity. His residence far outstripped whatever primitive lodgings either side could manage to shuffle together. “I do not live in the Dire camp as I value concepts like hygiene and courtesy. I live in the tower, instead, which offers superior accommodations that surpass the hovels we call  _ camps _ .”

A few others had tried to gain access to his tower. Kael had immediately punted them off his property, burned the grass they stood on, then erected a few more wards that would incinerate any fools stupid enough to trespass. His tower only allowed a select few to enter, and he hadn’t hosted anyone for years now.

“I care little for what the imbeciles assume. Whatever their thoughts are, it will be as pathetically short and narrow-minded as they are. If  _ you _ feel that it is necessary to cringe away from the perceptions of lesser creatures, that is your prerogative.”

Not that he would be broadcasting anything that they do. But that was because Kael desired privacy, not because he feared judgment. After all, how could  _ ants  _ judge the motions of the cosmos?

 

“All of their words are simply noise. If any of them bear truth, I will simply choose not to hear it.” This was a completely strange turn of his first day, but Nortrom was somehow proud. The Invoker was inviting him to his home so he could learn from him.

What would his tutors say now? In front of the world’s most refined sorcerer, they would not dare mock his talents as useless, when  _ the Invoker  _ himself wished to familiarize himself with it. The smirk would have to stay off of his lips though, it would look very odd in their conversation.

As they walked, they had left the town behind, now surrounded by only night birds chirping, and the edge of a lush forest. Leagues beyond, the battlefield reset itself, as it did every night under the ancient’s control.

“We have an agreement then, Invoker.”

 

They were on the path to his tower, though the Silencer likely did not know it. Kael cast an assessing eye over the town, the battlefield, then the camps. All was still - none of the wards he’d placed around them had been tripped - besides the normal comings and goings of the heroes of either side. His scrying revealed the ancients to be as they were and had been for years, since their fall from the heavens.

His eye turned to the elf beside him. Young, terribly, incredibly young compared to Kael’s collected years. An adult, by any right, but practically a sapling next to him. He was… interesting. The only interesting thing to have come by for many years. The promise of knowledge was a tempting one, and Silencer seemed to know his proper place in the world. He understood the majesty of who he was speaking to, which was enough to gain him Kael’s attention beyond the scope of his powers.

His respect did not mean that Kael would not destroy him in the battlefield, of course. That was just on principle. But he would let him die with more ease than he would let… say, the Skywrath Mage die. That was an honor all on its own too.

“Indeed we do.” As he stepped forward, the first of the wards that limited foot traffic near his forest flared up with pink light to bar access to the Silencer. Kael would alter them to let him in later, but he could stay out tonight. He turned briefly, just before the threshold of another ward, and fixed the Silencer with a knowing gimlet eye.

“Sleep well… Nortrom.” With that, he took the last step that would let him pass over the ward, and it erased his image before the Silencer could have a chance to reply.


	4. Chapter 4

Nortrom stared up at the tower. This was a grand structure, and yes, it suited the mighty pride the Invoker brought to light every day, but had he really magicked it up out of the ground? Or had someone constructed it here with the Arsenal Magus in mind? The question was impossible to answer, and Nortrom found himself alone on his return journey. And brimming with anticipation to meet Kael again, be it in battle or here.

At least now he knew where the mage lived. When he fell into his simple bed much later on, he couldn’t concentrate on strategies for the day of battle anymore. He was going to study the most interesting elf in the world.

-x-

The tower didn’t lose any of its grandeur during the day. The ancient had not chosen Nortrom for the battle, and the Dire had not made demand of the Invoker, so it was a perfectly suited day to set foot in the tower. Nortrom had packed his glaive and shield, only for demonstration purposes. Both pieces were strongly involved in his spells, and he did agree to share everything with the Invoker, to a degree. Bundled together in a pack he bore on his back, he looked like a common squire, carrying a knight’s burden. He did not come in his battle armor, but as casually dressed as he had stepped out during the night of their previous meeting.

Nortrom stared along the path. Would he trigger some sort of trap? Should he wait for Invoker to notice him?

 

The wards had all been altered to recognize and allow entry for the Silencer in the morning, though he probably didn’t know it. When one of the alert seals tripped in the presence of the Silencer, Kael just had to glance over at his scrying ball to know what he had to do.

_ Just walk _ , he said and his voice intoned from all around the forest towards the Silencer.  _ You have been allowed entry _ .

Kael himself was involved in his usual routine when he wasn’t called up for battle. The tower maintained itself automatically, so all his time was used for finding a solution to one of his worst mistakes from his youth. Memory alteration was a risky thing and Kael had been lucky to only make it so he could not expand his memory beyond what he already had. But the failure of it still ground on him, millennia later, so he continued to invest time on figuring out a solution.

There were other pursuits too. Enchanting different tools, making certain spells more efficient, and so forth. With all the years he’d spent in this tower, its insides looked like a Arcanery worthy of any grand mage’s library. Golden reinforcement runes twinkled from the walls and certain panels of crystal, similar to mirrors, showed him the permanent scries that he used to look into key locations around the whole area. They were all blank now, though it would take only a wave of his hand to bring them to life. 

A grand, shining, completely accurate model of the cosmos hung from the very top of the tower, made when Kael had been particularly bored. The planets rotated on unseen axes ponderously, revolving around a model star that seemed to burn between one blink and the next, but none of the models cast any shadows on the levels below. The walls of the tower had hairline divides that kept each segment apart from one another, and the massive windows - opaque on the outside, completely clear on the inside - tracked the movement of the sun so Kael received optimal light at all hours of the day. Heavy crystal chandeliers provided extra light to make up for any deficiencies as needed, though no source could be seen for the steadily glowing little bulbs in their center.

In its center was the master of the tower. Everything in the tower was enchanted to circle the mage, so that everything he might need was always in reach. Even the walls seemed to bend to give him an easier time looking at whatever surface he deemed worthy of his attention. While waiting for the Silencer to arrive, he stood on the ground level of his tower, silently frowning as he considered a tome about magic counters. So far, nothing in his physical archives had anything about what the Silencer could do.

 

Nortrom had wandered the path with caution, though it proved to be unnecessary. Invoker’s words held true, and he was welcomed inside the grand structure.

Immediately, in reminded Nortrom of home. Or the place he had once called by such a name. The Aeol Drias Order had held their young mage apprentices in a tower as well, though it was not as light and lavish as this grand building. The style was familiar, and yet just beyond his grasp. It must be a type of elven construction from before Nortrom’s time. Whatever it was, beauty was a prime feature, followed by magical excess and ridiculous amounts of tomes, but it was absolutely befitting of a mage. Invoker must really have planned to stay a while, if he built this place for privacy as his home.

“...Invoker?” Nortrom called, carefully, not wishing to disturb whatever the mage was working on. Mishaps with spells were not something he needed this early in the morning.

 

“Come in then,” Kael snapped as he slammed his tome shut with one hand. With a flick, it flew off back to its proper place in the library overhead. More books floated around him, though he did not peruse their offered pages. “Do not linger in the doorway like a lost child. Come in, sit down, and prepare.”

The tables and graphs that had been in the Silencer’s way suddenly scampered away to make room as the tower rearranged itself for the new arrival. A heavy wooden desk slid soundlessly towards where Kael stood, along with plush armchairs. Lights angled so they could see clearly from every angle. Quills and blank scrolls neatly stacked up on one corner of the desk. Like a single creature, the entire tower organized itself before settling down just as quietly as it had moved and Kael barely twitched in reaction besides sitting down when a armchair sidled up obligingly behind him.

 

Nortrom avoided the skittering, scampering furniture out of instinct. He’d grown up in a mage’s tower, he knew this sort of environment. He just never realized how effortless it looked, or that he might miss it. His pack was dumped with a heavy clunk, leaning against one of the desks. He sincerely hoped Invoker didn’t expect him to be taking notes. That was not how Nortrom tended to study. He was an observant elf who had spent eleven years studying all the young mages he eventually struck down.

“I wonder if my silence would affect your enchantments.”

He sprawled in the armchair, not a creature of particular grace, though he at least didn’t prop up his feet like a farmer.

 

Discreetly, a cushion crawled closer and wriggled under the Silencer’s pack until it rested underneath it. An ottoman also crept nearer, offering itself if he wanted to rest his feet anywhere.

Kael remained silent while the tower seemed to fidget, almost, rearranging this and that as it tried to make the setting more comfortable until everything froze when he raised his head from his contemplation.

“Stop that,” he said, seemingly to thin air, then the tomes that had been slowly floating ever nearer to his face immediately slammed shut and went back to their homes within the shelves. Satisfied, Kael looked to Silencer.

“We will be testing that,” he informed him, “I intend to understand the full properties of your ability before attempting to learn it myself. If there is an unforeseen consequence to everything you do, I would prefer to discover that before I expose myself to it.”

Kael, for all his self-love, was always deadly serious when it came to magic. He’d made one grave error in his youth and had sworn to himself to never repeat it, or anything like it, ever again. One could only be the best if one  _ remained _ the best, after all.

“Now, Silencer. Let us be clear. I invited you to my sanctum. This is a rare honor that  _ very few _ could ever hope to achieve. As such, consider this tower more sacred than  _ any _ consecrated ground you may have entered, as its value surely outshines them all. Any cases of  _ theft _ , or  _ deliberate sabotage _ , or  _ vandalization _ will have you meet the  _ full weight _ of my displeasure both on  _ and _ off the battlefield.”

 

Ah, now he was given the house rules. They showcased a great care for materials, at least. So Invoker cared for his tomes and scrolls. They were probably priceless to someone like Rubick, who stole spells for a living, but Nortrom had no interest in such business nor need for coin gained from it. 

“Spells don’t do me much good written down. That’s why I came to you, to see them performed. To sense the magic. You can dispense with any further formalities that concern your belongings, Invoker. I’ve no interest. What I take comes from your mind.”

 

“Yes. That brings me to my next point. Actions taken on the battlefield are different than actions taken elsewhere. Your ability to…  _ drain _ minds is a useful one and its usage against me on the battlefield - on the faint hope of you ever managing it - is permitted. But if you  _ ever _ attempt anything similar here, then you  _ will _ die and not even the magic of the Ancients will be  _ sufficient _ to bring you back.”

Mind theft was one of the most common attacks on mages. It was practically why Kael loathed Rubick, besides his natural state of inferiority. Kael’s tolerance for anything similar was markedly low and that was how he kept his venerated mind intact over many,  _ many _ years of being targeted for exactly that.

 

“Again. You don’t seem to understand how my skills work.” Nortrom remained perfectly calm, if not a little bored by the lengthy description of rules and threats. He had no interest in ransacking Kael’s home, nor in taking his belongings or his spells, be it from tome or mind. If he would make him forget a good fraction of what he knew...well, he didn’t need to do so in a casual setting like this. He’d keep his fury to the battlefield.

“I understand the term arcane sanctum a lot better than you assume. I grew up in one.”

 

“A new establishment run  _ by _ whelps  _ for _ whelps,” Kael dismissed. Just like that, the grave atmosphere had dissipated and Kael’s attention was on different matters. He would not have invited the Silencer if he felt like he was a genuine threat, but it always was well to remind his lessers that there were limits to his generous patience.

“Now, you came here for a specific purpose. Thus, my study of your powers will need to be in-depth as possible so that I may gain optimal understanding of what you can do.”

A quill flew up from the desk while a scroll unfurled itself. A list began to be written down as Kael droned on.

“... you will, of course, abandon whatever pointless pursuits you may have so that my study is not interrupted. I hope that you understand your power, even in a limited sense, and that will need to noted down as well for further study and expansion.”

The quill paused as Kael stopped. He turned to look over the Silencer, observing.

“Then there is the other half of the exchange,” Kael said. “You came here seeking parts of my vast arcane knowledge. Though you cannot master most of it, there must be something that you desire to learn.”

 

“Yes. I must expose myself to as many different types of spells as I can. Only then can I find the best method to silence mages of each specific speciality. And since that is my pursuit, it will not come into conflict with your study. This will be a very mutually beneficial exchange.”

Even if Nortrom, in the long-run, was counting on a very real victory against Invoker, that was still a long, long time off. For now, he wanted to know this ancient mage, and get out of him what he could. 

“There is only so much I can tell you about my powers. They involve a lot of...feeling. Intuition.”

 

Any other mage might have worried about the possibility of being beaten because of their own teachings. Kael found such concerns to be trivial at best, and insulting at worst. No student of his could exceed the master - he could spend a dozen lifetimes teaching the Silencer, and he would never be closer to achieving victory over Kael. That was simply how the world worked.

“That is achievable,” he said, “you were wise to desire my tutelage. There is no other mage who knows as many spells in as many fields as  _ I _ do. It may even be allowed to be incorporated into my study, if it proves to be more than an amusement.”

The list finished, the quill jotted one period down before it toppled over. The ink was let to dry while Kael steepled his fingers.

“ _ Intuition _ is the realm of the ignorant,” he said, “all magic can be understood if you study it enough. Or do you mean to tell me that you managed to make consistent  _ spells _ using your  _ feelings _ ?”

 

“Yes,” Nortrom answered, calm as a crocodile floating in a river, “That is accurate. I had to master my feelings of intense...dissatisfaction to even become aware of my talents.”

Sitting in darkness, alone for weeks, no one for company but the shaming voices of his tutors...Oh, Nortrom remembered all too well how he managed to discover the void of magic in himself.

“Only when I had nothing did I make something out of it.”

 

Kael pursed his lips as a quill jot that down. His years of studies on the arcane arts had shown him that magic could be expressed in a multitude of ways through nearly any craft if the user was able to channel their magic and mental energies to it. He could see the same happening - a magic user experiences an intense emotion, said emotion becomes a manifest channel for the magical energies within the user. It’s happened before.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t be  _ annoyed _ by it. Kael’s power came from taking the essential nature of magic broken down to its most basic parts and his ability to arrange it in any shape or form that suited him in the moment. This  _ intuition- _ based magic was imprecise, wishy-washy, and lacked  _ structure _ \- unforgivable, in Kael’s eyes.

“...we have much to learn,” he finally said, “and even more to study. You keep care that you are ready, as I will not wait for you.”

A fresh scroll swept over the desk while the previous one went to bind itself to a journal. It would be a fresh one, specifically opened just for the Silencer. If this _ truly  _ was a new branch of magic as he suspected, then Kael expected to be filling out many other journals after that.

“We’ll begin here, by looking into the nature of your magic…”

 


	5. Chapter 5

He’d be ready to go once more in a good fifty minutes. The spells still prickled, burned over his skin in ghostly shrouds, but they had done him no harm once he heaved his shield.   
Today’s lessons were taking place outside, and Nortrom was devoting this time to his physical work. He couldn’t slack, just because he was spending a lot of time in a comfortable tower in comfortable furniture eating fine food and keeping immortal company.  
He felt decadent, the first time he took a nap on one of the Invoker’s sofas. It had draped a blanket over him and shoved a pillow under his head and when he woke, he was brightly refreshed. Either the arcane aura was feeding him well, or he simply needed a place to focus, like this. Nortrom didn’t have a home, just the tent he trekked back to every night. It became colder and less satisfying by the day.  
He’d much rather wake up to freshly brewed tea and glaive enchanting in the yard than with the dew clinging to his sleeping fabrics.  
It was never really cold around the Invoker’s tower and Nortrom welcomed that as a chance to escape his armor and robes, deciding on glaive practice the way he had done it as a teenager; nothing but bare hands, a tree for target practice, and all the strength in his left arm.  
The air whistled sharply as the glaive’s enchanted edges sliced through it, burrowing deep into the ancient oak. The tree groaned dangerously with the impact.

The sounds of another person around his tower became increasingly more common until Kael found himself growing accustomed to the soft tap of Silencer’s heels in the background or the shuffle-thud of him moving his packs and exploring his environment. True to his word, he was respectful of Kael’s rules so, slowly, he relaxed some of the harsher restrictions until the other elf was allowed almost complete liberty of movement around the tower. The tower itself was responding to him gladly, so he could skim the library, raid the kitchens, or trawl over the alchemy lab as much as his mortal heart desired.   
Only Kael’s personal chambers remained off limits to him. Those were located in the most secure, isolated section of his tower, inaccessible to anyone who was not keyed in by Kael himself, and so carefully hidden and protected that no amount of poking around would even provide a hint of where the doorway to it was. Kael was most vulnerable in his sleep and took no risks with himself when his mind and body were not totally secure.  
Everywhere else was open, including the section of forest that he’d decided belonged to him.  
Now, Kael could hear the distinct noise of Silencer practicing with his glaive. On the other hand, Kael himself had never bothered with melee. He was too talented with magic to lower himself to physical assaults, but he could understand why someone such as Silencer would need other forms of attack. He’d been engraving runes on a new tool he would later need for their study sessions - he’d wanted to know if it was possible to seal the silence, or if that really did override all forms of magic. This collar would try to block the silence. If it succeeded, further tests on mimicking, rebounding, and draining the silence could commence.  
However...  
A scrying mirror tilted down to his view and the image cleared out until he could see the clearing outside his tower. He could also look out the actual window, but that didn’t offer a view as close or… precise as the scries did.  
The Silencer was back at it again. Stripped down, bare, clearly unaware of the world outside of his glaive and the tree he was demolishing. Without hesitation, Kael let himself set his tools aside so he could watch.  
The first time Silencer asked him for an opportunity to practice with his weapons, Kael granted him permission without a second thought. It was only after the noise started that he’d deigned to look into it - and was pleasantly surprised by a good amount of supple, bared skin.  
As usual, Silencer was no classic elven beauty. Scars marred his tanned skin and there was the clear wear of time and labor on his face and body; nothing about him had changed for the better or for the worse since Kael had first clapped eyes on him in mid lane. But, just as his magic was intriguing, so was the juxtaposition of his person to what an elf should be like.  
Kael was the epitome of elven perfection. No classic elven face could bear to match his. He would always be better looking, always a little more symmetrical, always that more proportionate. But Silencer was not that, so he managed to avoid such comparisons.  
It wasn’t his first time watching. Nearly two weeks had passed since their first meeting and they used their time in between battles to study, and the Silencer had begun training since a week and a half ago. The scry let him observe the way Silencer’s muscles rippled under his scar-ridden back. Each time he caught his glaive, readjusted his stance, then threw it, his body went through a complex series of interactions; his arms tensed, his waist tightened and relaxed, his legs shifted his weight. His was a body that had been carved hard and lean through dedicated work and self-care - an aesthetic quality that Kael found himself appreciating more and more with each instance of observation.  
He wouldn’t mind letting that view become a constant for the brief blink of time Silencer would be in his life. The tower always had more space - it would only take Kael’s invitation for the Silencer to move in. Refusal wouldn’t happen, obviously. Who would refuse to live in a magical marvel like this?

Nortrom continued on his own, completely unaware he was being observed so closely. The scrying mirrors...he figured the mage used them to study faraway magical situations. He enjoyed this little bit of solitude, within the tower. It was much like the arcanery he grew up in, and it felt more like home now than anything in the Radiant camp did. Invoker was an arbitrary fellow, and the way he studied him was both intense and cold. Nortrom’s magic was being cataloged into countless tomes, quills scritching every time they spoke.  
The trial runs with Invoker’s spells, those were his favourite, apart from moments of silence to himself. His silence had yet to fail him on any particular task, and considering how large the arsenal was, that meant a lot.  
Invoker was an interesting elf, once you looked past the extreme narcissism.

Artfully spread across his armchair, robes thrown to one side to give freedom for his legs to move, Kael let his engraving pen float across his hand. It glowed blue with subtle magic. Beside it was the collar he’d been engraving by hand for the last hour.  
Kael considered the stone collar. It was held up in one hand, just next to the scry where he could see Silencer. White eyes narrowed, he tilted his head a fraction while thinking. The collar was meant to snap around Silencer’s neck and bind his magic to his mouth - similar to his silence, technically. If this test was successful, then he should end up with his very own silenced Silencer. He imagined the white stone clamping around that muscled neck snugly, the shock that might filter over Silencer’s face once he realized that even his foreign magic could be tamed by Kael. Then, the resultant admiration that would surely flow from him once he let himself go to Kael’s studies, understanding that he was inferior and the greatest joy in his life would be to see what more magical marvels Kael could produce using his magic. Silencer had developed it, but Kael would master it - and with it, Silencer as well.  
Yes. That could work.  
Silencer, the forest called. Come in. The next test is ready.

Already? Nortrom had barely worked up a sweat. His combat skills couldn’t afford to be neglected, even if these tests were extraordinary preparation for any future enemies he could face. What good would come of knowing how to silence them if he couldn’t physically finish them off? He didn’t deal in humiliating mages. He dealt in eliminating them permanently.  
Deciding to leave the glaive and shield (they always found their way inside and polished before he left for home anyway), Nortrom stepped back into the grand tower. They had not discussed the next test, but the Invoker had been working on it for longer than a day and night, so it must be something quite special.  
“I take it this spell won’t involve destruction?”

“No, it will not need anything like that,” Kael said. He gestured to the empty space before him. “Come here.”  
He took the collar into his hands. Its polished stone gleaming between his slim fingers, waiting to be wrapped around their intended. “Come closer - this needs to go around your neck. Do not do anything else until I tell you to.”

Nortrom had established a sort of trust with the Invoker that involved the free use of destructive spells and all sorts of unruly power, but nothing so far had been fitted on him. Nothing that looked like a shackle, anyway. He hesitated.  
“What will it do?”  
Collars just filled him with a sense of foreboding, but he had to have faith in the Invoker’s purely studious interest. He was close enough to pick up the faint scent of the Invoker. Something airy mixed with the heavy ozone of magic. Nortrom sucked it down deeply, keeping an entirely indifferent expression.

“It is meant to block your silencing. The enchantment on it is very simple - if overpowered to compensate for any possible errors. This is the same kind of enchantment that older elven prisons used to have for imprisoning mages - they’ve moved on since then, thanks to my aid in helping them modernize, but the magic behind it remains the same.”   
Kael gestured a little more impatiently. “Kneel.” His insistence was double-sided. One - the Silencer was taller than him. Not significantly, no, but just enough that Kael would have to reach up to place the collar on him and that simply unacceptable. Two - his inferiors belonged at his feet, as always.  
“Hurry up, I did not spend my time engraving this so you could dilly-dally.” Pointedly, the carpet under Silencer’s feet raised up to push him to Kael.

Everything in Nortrom resisted the notion. Kneel? He had never submitted to anything in his life, why should he start now? The Invoker was too smart to not have ulterior motives, and something that would silence his own abilities sounded like a reckless endangerment. Making himself helpless in front of his would-be nemesis?   
Only a fool would take such a risk.   
Only a brave fool.  
Nortrom could still rely on his physical abilities, could he not? Slowly, he dropped down, dignified as could be as his gaze no longer rest on the crown of the Invoker’s head, but rather at his robed waist.   
“Continue then.”

“Stay still,” Kael ordered imperiously. The collar snapped open and Kael leaned forward to close the extra slice of distance. One hand rested on Silencer’s head, keeping him still, while the other let the collar’s open end press against his skin.  
“This may be uncomfortable, but do not resist it.”  
With a soft hiss, the collar flashed blue then closed around Silencer’s neck. Kael gave it a few tugs, ensuring that it was secure, before his hand dropped to his brown shoulder. “Well?”

Uncomfortable was putting it mildly. As soon as the collar closed, Nortrom felt sick. Not just a little dizzy, but weak and disorientated. With a groan, he bowed his head into the robes in front of him, hand on the floor to steady himself.  
“I...can’t...”  
Couldn’t feel the void. Couldn’t feel the Invoker’s magic. It was robbing him of the senses he’d grown to rely on his entire adult life. A hundred years, and now he felt blind and lost.  
“Take it off,” he wheezed. This felt worse than Magina’s mana drain, which ripped magic from any living being piece by piece.

“I assume that means it is a success,” Kael purred, pleased. Finally. All the spells he’d tried before had failed completely on Silencer, but his suspicions about enchanted magic had been correct. A whole new interesting field of study about silencing used on passive and active magic was opened up now - this basic collar was the first of many more interesting ventures.  
“Tell me how it feels,” Kael ordered him. A quill and scroll readied next to them. He would have to endure his discomfort for a few more moments until the information was recorded. “Describe it all.”  
In his discomfort, the Silencer seemed to have not noticed the way his head rested on Kael’s leg. That was permissible, since he was being so pliable to Kael’s demands and he had, in his infinite wisdom, foreseen this exact outcome. It was why he’d told Silencer to kneel in the first place. His fingers brushed through dark hair critically - just what kind of conditions did the Silencer live in within the Radiant camp? His latest object of interest needed to be kept intact and not loitering in the gutter with the rest of imbeciles. His skin was warm too. Likely a consequence of his exercise outside.  
“Keep no details out,” Kael said. He could focus on multiple matters at once after all. His study of Silencer’s physicality and his magic didn’t need to interfere with one another.  
“It burns,” Nortrom obeyed, if only because it was the quickest avenue to easing said discomfort, “Like embers...I can’t...feel.” Not his own void of magic, or the heavy flow of it around Invoker. It felt like half the world had been taken from him, and his senses warped inside out for good measure. Nausea rose in his stomach.  
“I can’t...see your...magic. Can’t hear it.”  
And that was, perhaps, the worst of it all. Nortrom was so used to the hum of other people’s magics in his ears. The constant noise. Now, he was not steeped in blissful silence. He heard and didn’t at the same time. Every little whisper was a distant echo, as if the sound bounced off of a million hollow walls without ever reaching him in their midst. And yet, it was deafening.  
“Horrible...noise...” His hands fisted in the Invoker’s robe and he pressed his head against the elf’s thigh, hard, trying to find something to ground himself in.

Hm. The reaction was rather violent. There were some who suffered to a similar extent as he did, though they were rare cases who, incidentally, possessed mutated magic. Maybe it was the Silencer’s own one-of-a-kind nature that made his reaction so poor.  
The quills noted it all down, and when nothing further seemed to come from Silencer, Kael decided that he might have had enough. Not everyone could have his perseverance, after all.  
With a gesture, the collar snapped free of his neck. Kael pulled it off and it floated to its little hanger on his desk.  
Tapered fingers traced the tiny little marks left in Silencer’s skin as Kael leaned in, vaguely amused. “You have never seemed more young than you do now. Was that your first time feeling the effects of a magic blocker?”

Nortrom didn’t let go of Invoker’s robes just yet. He kept his head bowed, eyes closed. Magic blocker...that felt far worse than what he imagined or predicted. That felt like he was being caged within his own mind and a cacophony of noises he couldn’t silence. Well, that had been the point, but it was unpleasant nonetheless.  
“Why should anyone try to block my lack of magic?” Nortrom murmured, breathing a little too fast to seem entirely composed again. He felt sweat pearl on his neck. He would ensure to never bear that collar again.

“Because you seem to be affected by it anyway. This puts weight on the theory that you possess a magic that is more about a lack of it, than an actual lack of magic.” A lock of dark hair went around his finger. Kael tugged it idly as he examined the elf before him critically. He could see the short ears from here as well. The only thing that distinguished them from human ears was the just-there point. A little fascinated, Kael ran his index finger over one. Did his magical mutation also extend to his appearance as well?  
“Three centuries ago, that was the kind of collar most commonly used to restrain mages. Many of them, if they spend too long under its influences, found that they lost more than half their magical ability.” It’d been an interesting time of innovation. Kael had been present for some of the more dramatic conferences on the matter. “Your reaction to it is fascinating. I know of more similar enchantments with different effects. We will have to test them.”

Only once the discomfort had faded and the world righted itself in his senses did Nortrom realize there was a hand in his hair, drifting through the dark mess of it with indulgence. Was this some kind of distantly applied comfort, or was the Invoker genuinely touching him right now? It wasn’t exactly a mundane sort of situation, so he kept silent about it, instead contemplating what the Invoker was talking about.  
He tensed up at the mention of similar enchantments. Test more of these blasted things? Very, very unlikely.  
He looked up just as a finger brushed his ear. That was delicate on any being, but especially elves considered it an intimate touch. Nortrom’s throat felt absurdly dry.  
“Next time you will tell me what effect you are expecting.”

“I did tell you it was meant to block magic. How was I meant to estimate the depths of your inexperience?”  
Silencer was still sprawled across his lap, though he didn’t seem to be cognizant of the implications of it. Kael huffed in silent, knowing amusement. The proximity of it did not bother him, though he was curious to know how the elf would react once he grasped it all.  
A finger went to tap at Silencer’s jaw admonishingly. “Do not presume to order anything, Silencer. I will provide the information as I see fit - just rest assured that your health remains priority, only if because I cannot study you further if you are damaged. None of the other enchantments will be as uncomfortable as this one - we need to know the way your magic interacts with such things before we delve into the deeper parts.”

Nortrom felt scolded, much like a child, and yet he wasn’t prone to objection. Invoker still seemed absolutely fascinated by studying him, and that’s what he wanted the infamous mage to be. Once this interest waned, their agreement would be over. And Nortrom had begun to enjoy the company, the elven surroundings, untainted with his bad memories, and the quiet of it all.  
He sat back on his feet, so he wouldn’t be so draped over the other elf. Kael. He knew his name, it had been on the tip of his tongue for days, and yet he still wouldn’t use it. The mage was lingering on his mind a fair bit...too much. He was gorgeous, intelligent, entirely aware of his own qualities...and all of that was attractive to Nortrom. Humility and kindness were not high on his list, and he’d never been crowded by intrigued company. But Kael had noticed the very first moment they met. And that fed Nortrom’s pride immensely.  
Everything else the Invoker did, well, that fed Nortrom’s intrigued state too. Still, if he lingered this close to him, that would leave his mind and start to play in his body. Already he felt too warm, almost flustered.  
“I suppose I can bear them for the purpose of your study.”

Kael leaned back, settling against his armchair, and crossed his legs now that they were devoid of Silencer’s presence. He raised a brow at the flush on his face, but stayed quiet. The amusement of it all would be ruined if he popped the bubble now, so he would let it foster on its own until the right time came.  
“You can also bear the burden of beginning to move your packs into the tower,” he told Silencer, “this study won’t be limited by a few hours of spells each day. Magic can be easily affected by the date, hour, and astronomical positions of the cosmos - you travelling between your hovel and here is wasting my time. Figure out your arrangements on your own; I expect you to be ready to initiate the full phase of testing by tomorrow.”  
The tower helpfully propped up Silencer’s arms, already cleaned and polished for his next use. His clothes, neatly folded and laundered, were also helpfully offered. Supper would soon be ferried out for him, but more was going on. More than usual, at any rate.  
The tower, seeming to understand Kael as he spoke, was rearranging itself. The sound of stone grinding against each other was briefly heard before a new, previously unseen door opened up with a creak of old hinges. The upper levels twisting around, giving up space for the new room. An small kettle of oil hurriedly began to drip onto the creaky hinges, cringing in mortification at being late to its job.  
“Obviously, moving here is going to be a vast improvement to your current lodging.”

Nortrom kind of wanted to laugh. The Invoker had just blatantly told him to move in with him, and his tower diligently just made a room for him without waiting for an answer from him whatsoever. The brashness of both mage and tower was endearing and refreshing, even though Nortrom was somewhat baffled that his presence was downright expected. The insults to his tent, he’d let stand. He did hate camping and hearing everything that went on in the tents closest to him. There was too much personal business happening for his comfort, and Magina had the irritating habit of coming in late at night to rant about...anything and everything.   
Here, he’d be in blessed isolation, since the Invoker would only see him for the tests and studying. There was good food, warmth, and an elven homeliness to the tower and its meticulous care for guests that just drew him in like warm honey.  
“I feel like you already know my answer. I can’t say I didn’t miss the comforts of an actual...lodging.”  
Home. He wanted to call it home. But it was a little too soon, no matter how dear he found the enchanted tower.  
“I’d like for you to use my name. If I am to share your...tower.”

Kael could’ve kicked him out for that presumption. Instead, he tilted his head to the side and his hair fell across his shoulder in the way he knew was the most fetching. Light played with the blonde of his head, making it look like he was lit up in a golden halo.  
“Nortrom,” he said, with the faintest upward curl to his mouth. “A fine name. If you insist upon it, then you may use my name as well.”  
Kael. Most of his colleagues of similar age used his name, whether he liked it or not, and at least Sil - Nortrom had the basic respect to wait for permission before flinging it about. As long as he kept that same respect up then, just as his tower had loosened its restrictions for him, so could Kael loosen up similarly.

Kael knew how to present himself. The cold distance of his sheer arrogance was almost forgotten, when he spoke so charmingly and let Nortrom’s name play over his lips. The Silencer stayed true to his name for several moments, some of which too long to be called mere courtesy.  
“Most gracious of you, Kael.”   
It was a simple name, for one so grand. Perhaps in his time, Kael had a longer name to suit his person. Perhaps back then, every name was as short, poignant. Nortrom could try to find out. The tower was a lot more lax about letting him read books, especially the few that contained only historical aspects and no spellwork.   
Nortrom wished to know more about the Invoker, as a person. How old was he, really? How many events of history had he witnessed, partaken in? Was he credited for his contributions? Was he born an immortal? They scrambled over each other, the questions in his mind, and yet he could not speak them to the mage himself. It would be beyond the scope of their agreement.  
“I will retrieve the rest of my belongings, then, if we are finished here.”

“Indeed it is,” Kael agreed. “Now - go. The sooner you move, the sooner you will stop disturbing me.”  
Echoing his words, the tower snapped its doors shut in unison twice.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Time passed. Nortrom got all his belongings in order and the tower, rather insistently, had grabbed it from his hands the minute he passed through. The contents of which all were chucked into the washer to be thoroughly cleaned, since the tower echoed Kael’s opinion of the camps.  _ Disgusting _ .

Within a few days, the tower had grown to understand Nortrom’s needs. It cooked him his favorite foods, gave him the amount of light he liked, and cleared the floor so he always had room to move. Select books began to pile on his nightstand, always taken away and replaced with another when he finished them.

Kael accepted the newest addition to his home easily - he was prone to long periods of absence or work and paid Nortrom little to no attention in that time. However, when the swinging pendulum of his thoughts ended up in Nortrom’s side again, his focus was almost drowning in its intensity.

A rigorous field of tests were prepared for him. Newly engraved collars came on and off his neck, testing the different exotic effects Kael could think up. More journals were filled up with his attributes, saved for later compilation and editing, and a new shelf formed in the library specifically for the research journals.

Things changed, however, after Nortrom moved in.

Little by little, Kael could see the brief flashes of his attraction. He’d known it to exist, of course, but he found his delight in catching the moments Nortrom looked at him a little too long, or lingered in his vicinity a little too closely. His admiration was practically tangible, and  _ how _ could Kael deny his poor admirer’s hopes? Just as it was natural for a flower to turn its face to the sun, so surely would Nortrom’s eyes turn to Kael.

His view would never disappoint. Kael took to wearing his diadem more, and the heavy regal battle robes he usually wore were replaced by sleek elven garb in his tower. He was pleasing from any angle, always, and his every attribute was sublime - it was  _ kindness _ on his part to showcase it.

His fingers and eyes lingered on his guest as well. Nortrom’s skin was pleasant despite the scars and delightfully warm under Kael’s icy fingers. Since Nortrom was being  _ such _ a good guest and subject of study, Kael’s boundless generosity pushed him to reward him with a few, bare touches here and there, just to encourage him to keep up his good work.

 

Nortrom was no expert in the realm of flirtations. Heck, he didn’t consider personal relationships relevant to his life at all. Everything else took priority. Attachment bred burdens and unnecessary strings. Within his line of work, travel was a constant. As a hunter of destructive mages, collecting bounties placed on their heads, Nortrom had never dwelled in one place for long. The few friendships he had forged were not of many words, and only lasted as long as they were of use. He just...did not warm to people easily.

Magina had been a different story, an insistent source of company who had persisted in their work together and complimented his skills very well. The monk was not quite as austere as he gave himself to be, and Nortrom had followed him willingly here, to the war of the ancients.

He couldn’t have known that it would end with him living in the Invoker’s tower, ogling him at every opportunity he got. Nortrom was aware that the fire in the pit of his stomach was the ache of desire. He was painfully aware that Kael hit every mark in what he considered beautiful, from beauty, intelligence and power to the delicate aesthetic of the ideal elf. Golden and fragile, the Invoker’s ethereal form was a joy to behold.

Nortrom simply made sure he didn’t make any remarks on it.

As of late, they’d begun to share more time together outside of their studious sessions. More and more of those had included devices to inhibit his magic void, though Nortrom never again experienced the pain of the collar.

The tower prepared their meals simultaneously for those nights, and they shared company and conversation. Nortrom very much preferred these nights to the ones he spent in solitude.

The battles faded into the absolute background, each death and resurrection a mere annoyance in the way of spending his days and nights in the arcane tower. Everything began to spiral around Invoker, Kael. His attention, his thoughts, even his private ones could not be saturated enough with his host’s beauty and charm.

Magina would think him mad. So would the rest of the world. The Invoker, charming? With his insufferable arrogance? They didn’t understand the subtleties of the ancient mage at all, and Nortrom thought them ignorant for it.

 

The two of them were technically meant to be fundamentally opposed, but the War of the Ancients had never been anything more than a vehicle towards greater things for Kael. He participated as he was wont and continued to wreak unholy havoc across the battlefield. He and Nortrom faced each other a few times on occasion, and each time Kael walked away the undisputed victor. He found there to be a certain delight in making Nortrom accept his defeat with a dismayed, admiring air.

Days turned to weeks. Their schedules began to align better and better as the tower pointedly enforced a shared dinnertime - something Kael commented on and the tower had remained rather conspicuously still about. It made no attempt to hide the way it bustled around them, but Kael did not try to admonish it. This tower had been built around a single lodestone that he’d enchanted centuries ago and had carried with him ever since. Since the multiple times it’d been pulled apart and rebuilt, over the countless decades, it had gained its own limited personality. It was, perhaps, one of the few beings that had been with him consistently since his youth.

“Another elven dish?” Kael remarked when the table and chairs began to be set again. Cutlery flew overhead to settle primly around the steaming plates. “I don’t think I’ve eaten this for fifty years.”

He didn’t even remember from where the tower might’ve picked up the recipe. He purged most unneeded information when necessary, so that was no surprise. It looked good, anyway. 

 

Nortrom had only just entered the room, a sort of dining hall for a small amount of people, calmly weaving his way through flying dinner accessories and cutlery. The tower scheduled their meals here, always, including candlelight and the soft sounds of some string instrument being plucked. Nortrom didn’t question it or the mellow atmosphere, to be honest, he just appreciated that Kael indulged in it as much as he did.

A chair pulled itself out for him and he sank into it gratefully after his strenuous day on the field, without Kael this time.

“This...is Fyrn deer, isn’t it? With steamed key’fahl?”

Nortrom recognized the scent, the tinge of violet in the meat and even the opaque nature of the vegetables. This was a dish right out of his childhood, regional and distinctly typical of the Aeol Drias. He smiled, though the tower of course did not have any particularly interactive point. Nortrom tended to direct his answers, questions and such at the ceiling.

“Did you make this for me? That was very kind of you. Thank you.”

 

The tower wiggled two lamps at him cheekily before settling down to let them eat undisturbed. Kael folded into his seat with the same artful grace he employed everywhere else in his life, and examined his dinner only briefly before cutting into it. He didn’t move, of course. Cutting such things physically was below him. The cutlery moved on their own, neatly separating the steak into bite-sized portions.

Instead, his attention was preoccupied by something else. A scrying mirror was showing him the events of the day, and a rather obvious figure was lurking the edge of the boundary line segregating Kael’s forest and the brush of the camps.

“Anti-Mage,” he drawled, managing to squeeze a paragraph’s worth of disdain into the two words. “He’s been loitering near my property recently.”

A loud, distinctly angry voice began to play.

_ “Nortrom, get out here! I can’t believe -” _

The rest of his rant was cut off. The scry went dark and retreated to the wall. Kael raised a brow as he picked up his fork for the first time that night, and speared a vegetable. “Care to enlighten me on  _ why _ your presence has prompted him to pollute the outer edges of my land?”

 

Nortrom had been so pleased with the tower’s culinary art of recreating the dish, not even waiting for the cutlery to do the work for him and enjoying thick chunks of perfectly roasted meat when Magina’s voice rang out across the room.

Oh...great. So much for enjoying a peaceful evening. He had walked off rather swiftly after the latest battle, hadn’t he? Instead of staying for his customary talk and cool down spar with the Anti-Mage, he’d been happy to hurry off, eager to bathe in the tower’s perfect, marble tubs and be spoiled by the luxury of it all.

“He’s been asking where I moved to, since I no longer have a tent in the Radiant’s camp.”

He sighed. Magina knowing he lived here would be...an argument and a half. No doubt he felt betrayed, knowing Nortrom was shacking up with what he considered the ultimate evil.

“No doubt he is wanting to give me a talking to for my choice of company.”

 

“Slap him aside like the fly he is,” Kael said airily. Nortrom had better uses for his time than mixing around with mutts like the Anti-Mage. Kael would have to set up better barriers to ensure the Anti-Mage had no bright ideas about using his power on the wards - if he did, he would receive a  _ nasty _ surprise. “Why does he even hound after your company anyway? You are a mage, and he is the  _ Anti _ -Mage.”

He probably fancied himself to be a grand rival for Kael, though the feeling was even less than not mutual on the elf’s part. He was an irritant at most, and a waste of space and air at the worst. His presence wasn’t egregious enough to prompt a genuine murder attempt from him, but a little mutilation wouldn’t be too out of bounds if he stepped on the grass. Those wards were there for a  _ reason _ , and it was to keep  _ him _ and those like  _ him _ out.

“I am not a mage in his mind and those of many others,” Nortrom replied calmly, seeing the irritation rise in Kael’s magic energies as well as making delicate lines on his beautiful face. It irritated him, that Magina got this much of a reaction out of Kael. He didn’t deserve it. Nortrom loved his friend, who had saved his life once or twice, but there were limits about how far Magina’s wrath and prejudice for mages could spread. Nortrom pushed away from the table, getting to his feet.

“I will go speak with him. Please, do not scry on our private conversation.”

It was not what he wanted for this evening, but Nortrom also knew how stubborn Magina could be. He’d hang around until he broke through the wards, relying on his natural immunity to magic. It’s what made him such an ardent believer in his mission...

“I will be with you again shortly.”

Leaving the tower only took a moment, and Nortrom made no attempt at hiding his dismay as he marched down to the end of the path.

Magina looked him up and down and sniffed at the air.

“You stink of magic.”

“The only thing here that stinks are your manners, Magina. Come on. Walk with me.”

It was not a good walk, nor talk. Magina, as expected, blew his temper the second that Nortrom admitted that he now lived here, with the Invoker. Accusations and curses began flying from his lips, none of them assuaged by Nortrom’s reminder that he grew up in an arcane tower and, technically, was a mage too. Magina wouldn’t hear it, and instead, began turning his ire towards the Invoker.

“He’s put some sort of shitty spell on you, I swear. I will rip the mana out of him for even touching you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know I could sense it if I was hexed.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. You’ve gotten real sloppy in the fights.”

“Oh? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Your silence is always conveniently not available? You’re just barely interrupting his spell combinations even though you know damn well they’re coming? You’re getting soft on this ass, just because he’s letting you live in his fancy house!”

Nortrom sneered at the thought.

“Maybe you’re just getting a little too reliant on me saving your sorry behind all the time, Magina.”

The Anti-Mage plustered up, undignified and angry.

“He’s a bad, bad influence, Nortrom. Don’t fall for this crap. There’s a reason he’s on the Dire side, and that’s because he’s a damn evil wizard who will be put down when this is all done, I guarantee it. That’s what you came here for, that’s why I had you come!”

Nortrom stared at him, silence descending unto the heated argument. It was true. Magina did want him here to help with the bounty on Invoker’s head, amongst a few other mages here. But the thought of striking down Kael, like he had so many other mages gone bad...it sat ill with him. As uncomfortable as the blocking collar, actually.

“...I won’t do that.”

“...He’s corrupting you. I...Nortrom come on. Please don’t turn your back on me. You know you can trust me on this. And he’s bad, real bad news.”

Nortrom squeezed Magina’s shoulder, shaking his head.

“And you never trust me on making these calls. You have no idea what he is. Just...go home, Magina. I can handle myself. Thank you for being a good friend, but this is my business, not yours. Good night. Don’t come here again.”

Magina didn’t stay to dispute any of it, gone in an instant with hurt deep in his gaze.

 

Kael had immediately tuned in as soon as Nortrom left. He didn’t need to use his scries - a quarter of his wards in his forest were reserved for surveillance solely - so it wasn’t as if he was going against Nortrom’s wishes. His youth still made him naive if he thought Kael would  _ not _ listen. They were, after all, technically enemies. Anti-Mage was  _ definitely _ his enemy. So it could be said Kael was scrying  _ him _ , and the security risk he represented.

“ _...don’t come here again _ .”

Kael tapped his nail against the wooden table with a pleased smirk. Matters had proceeded as he’d expected - with Nortrom telling the Anti-Mage how foolish he was, and how stupid his ideas were. Perhaps not directly, but certainly obviously enough. It woke a bright, cruel impulse within Kael. So he thought  _ he _ could ever begin to be worthy of even stepping in Kael’s shadow? Pah! Plain idiocy as its most undiluted.

If  _ Kael _ was a bad influence… then he would just have to see how far that could  _ go _ .


	7. Chapter 7

Nortrom had no inkling that his talk with his friend was known to Kael, and he re-entered the tower and room only a little gloomier.

“He won’t be coming back,” was his only apology for the interruption, and he sank back into the chair, continuing his dinner much more sullenly. Magina’s words rested heavily on his mind, and began to stir uneasy thoughts into his blissful, domestic situation.

Was he being influenced by all this? Was he being foolish, in this proximity with a deadly mage? Was he being the young, naive thing that Kael called him from time to time?

 

“I am glad,” was all the reply Kael had to that. He also turned to his own dinner, though half his attention remained on Nortrom. He seemed a little upset after what had happened - had he actually  _ valued _ the company of that blundering buffoon? How extraordinary. Kael would have to amend that soon, and show him that he didn’t need to expend his time catering to the whims of lesser beings when he had someone of much greater value right here.

They ate in relative silence, seemingly out of respect to the gloomier mood. The tower even seemed quiet for Nortrom’s sake, and only pushed one napkin into his hand before meekly laying down again.

“Does that upset you?” Kael asked once dinner was over. The candles still remained, casting soft shadows that caressed the porcelain edges of his face. He sat leaned to one side, legs crossed, diadem glittering like hardened blood in the light.

 

It was a ruined dinner, and Nortrom wanted to apologize to the tower for the failed efforts. Even the great dish couldn’t bring his mood up and honestly, he was ready to call it a night and fall asleep straight away, but Kael brought up conversation, and he would not be denied.

Not that Nortrom would ever.

“It irritates me. He is...a friend. Who does not trust my judgement, because his hatred of magic makes him blind to all who use it. I may work as a mage bounty hunter, but I am not fool enough to think all magic is poison and terrible.”

He simply could not stand mages who used their talents for nothing more than greedy hoarding of riches or lands. It was just the same as any warlord or bandit.

“He knows nothing of you, and yet sees you as his greatest enemy. It isn’t right.”

 

“The inadequate dream of higher things, so that the light of their dreams may brighten the shadows of their future.” The table whisked itself to an unseen corner and the space between them shortened. Kael uncrossed and crossed his legs, so that the opposite now lay on top. “I care not for whatever aggression he harbors for me. It is meaningless in the end of ends. I count him as barely worthy of notice, an enemy simply because he is of Radiant and I am, nominally, of Dire.”

Nortrom’s dark mood was written all over his face. It deepened the hard lines already too-visible around his mouth and eyes, making him seem like he’d been carved out granite by a too-eager sculptor who’d gone too far on emphasizing his features. Kael let his fingers brush over the back of Nortrom’s hand as he let a slow, enigmatic smile creep across his face.

“Does he think that I am influencing you? Poisoning you?  _ Corrupting _ you? Even though you sprung from magic as surely as I have?”

 

“Yes...but he does not consider me a mage, since he too cannot see magic in me.” Nortrom was a little absorbed in his melodramatic mood towards Magina, but not far enough to disregard the touch to his hand. It, like all the other moments when Kael had touched him, sent a shiver down his back and blood pumping harder. It was just difficult not to react to the Invoker in such a way.

“Your reputation as a manic mage is undeserved. You are a scholar if anything, the oldest of them all. A chronicler of magic’s history. Of course you are not keen on mingling with those lesser than you. They are not even children to your eyes, and they can teach you nothing. I am beginning to question if I have not misjudged other mages as you have been misjudged.”

 

Kael preened subtly under the well-deserved words. It was so heartening to have someone around who could grasp the vast scope of his existence and not blanch under the conceptual weight. “His ignorance and prejudice blinds him.  _ I _ deem you a mage, and that is all the judgment you need.”

His fleeting touch solidified. Kael did not restrain himself to just a brief flutter of skin on skin - his hand rested on Nortrom’s wrist, one finger pressed to the network of veins on the underside and the pulse he could just sense. Hair draped over his shoulder as Kael bowed his head in Nortrom’s direction. “It is good that you are learning. The world is much bigger than this war, and what you may have seen up to this point. Only I have managed to map it all, and yet it still continues to expand by the hour.”

 

This touch continued in a fashion Kael had not pursued before. Nortrom felt his skin burn in the best way under where the icy, delicate fingers brushed over it. What was this affirmation, did Kael think he needed this much reinforcement? Nortrom felt distinctly flattered, but also terribly full of desire. Did the Invoker have to let his hair fall like that, and tilt his face just so in the light?

Crude lust flushed him and Nortrom had to suck in a deep breath.

“It sounds like my learning will never keep pace with the world, then.”

Only a mind such as Kael’s could. Nortrom felt nothing but keen desire to possess and claim that mind, and not in the way he usually expected. He craved making those he deemed unworthy feel like fools. With Kael, he craved to make him feel...connected. Desired. Wanted and appreciated, despite his arrogance keeping the world at bay.

 

Was that a waver in his voice? The barest tremble in his words? Kael smirked anew with each cachet of his clear attractability. How could he blame Nortrom for behaving as any mortal would? It was impossible to resist Kael - he’d been doomed from the moment they met.

“You can only try,” Kael said. His other hand went to rest on Nortrom’s chest, as delicate and light as a settled butterfly, and he leaned closer until he was near enough to make out the faint, sun-made freckles over Nortrom’s nose. The hand on his arm slid up higher.

“What am I then, Nortrom, if I am not a bad influence?”

 

Breath was in short supply to Nortrom right now, though his heart pounded as if he was running along an entire lane, from one ancient to the other. Kael was so close to him now. There was something in his demeanor, something new and unknown that his addled brain could not place.

_ Gorgeous, inspiring, someone I admire. _

Those were not acceptable answers, though they clung to his tongue as he could make out the complete lack of imperfections on Kael’s skin. How soft would it be, that perfect face? How warm or cold would his lips feel?

Nortrom could hear his own pulse and he knew he was acting a fool.

“A teacher. To me, at least.”

That was a respectable answer, and he congratulated himself on not sounding squeaky.

 

One blonde brow arched up knowingly. “A  _ teacher _ ?”

The hand on his chest slid up, following the edge of his shirt until his fingertips reached his collar. Kael let it rest there, his cool bare skin just touching the heat of Nortrom’s neck. “Am I simply that?”

They both knew the answer. It was up to Nortrom to be brave enough to admit it. Like this, Kael could make out the frantic drumbeat of his heart. This close, he could hear the restraint behind each word and how Nortrom replaced his true meaning with something he thought would be inoffensive. It was all so, so clear to him and all Kael needed to do was muster up his patience and wait for Nortrom to plod towards the understanding he’d reached long ago.

“Will you have me as simply  _ that _ ?”

He’d have him as anything, was Nortrom’s first, but thankfully unspoken, reaction. Kael knew what he was doing, and Nortrom finally understood that this was _ no  _ coincidence. He was actively being seduced, and all the Invoker had to do was touch him. 

He was, perhaps, too easy. But looking at Kael and understanding was enough to give him back some calm. He composed himself, though his heart continued to hammer out a frantic beat.

“I would have you as more, if it would please you also,” it sounded a little stilted, but Nortrom couldn’t think of an eloquent way to put his vehement desire. Or maybe he could. Reaching out, he stole Kael’s hand from his neck, bringing it to his lips for a reverent kiss to his knuckles. The skin there was cold, but soft. The hands of a mage, only used for wielding the arcane.

 

Yes, Nortrom  _ was _ good at knowing what he was meant to do. Kael let him do as he pleased before tugging his hand back. He had better things in mind than these vague touches and flirtations. Their chairs were close enough that he barely needed to move to settle his knees on either side of Nortrom’s legs, and rest his weight on his thick thighs.

“It would indeed please me,” Kael said, smug as he ensnared the senses of yet another fresh and new talent. Nortrom’s wide-eyed, adoring gaze made him preen further, straightening his back and letting his hair fall down his chest in a way he knew was meant to capture eyes - and hearts. His prowess was not merely limited to the battlefield, after all. He was divinely gifted in  _ everything _ . “Show me, then. Demonstrate it for me.”

The look that Kael gave Nortrom couldn’t have been out of place on the battlefield for all the same direct challenge it held.  _ Show me you are worthy _ , it demanded.  _ Display the value of your memory. _

 

One moment, Kael was simply looking splendidly seductive, the next, he was in Nortrom’s lap. Whatever thoughts of slowly chasing such an encounter were in Nortrom’s head ceased to be, and he needed a second to restart his thinking process. Kael had no patience for those of slow minds and Nortrom knew that look.

If he misplayed this situation, it wouldn’t come around again.  He was free to impress Kael and that was the only acceptable outcome. But that didn’t mean he had to skip all the potentially romantic ideas in mind. He wasn’t going to rush, especially not when it was his first instance of putting his hands on Kael, well and truly. Tracing the shape of his body, from knee to neck took first priority. He would make sure to map this body with his lips, tasting and memorizing along the way.

“...you’re magnificent,” he whispered, reverent as his fingers traced Kael’s jaw, bringing it lower so he only had to tilt his head up to kiss him. It wasn’t invasive, but it didn’t restrain itself to being chaste. Nortrom burned to push harder, to strip away the thin layers of fabric, to claim Kael in a quick and greedy manner. But he was aiming to impress, so he kissed him deeply and let his hands feel what Kael’s robes did not hide well.

 

Kael normally purged memories of lovers after enough time passed, only keeping the important details in place just so he was more prepared for the next time he met someone intriguing enough to be allowed passage into his bed. Nortrom was fortunate that Kael had not yet had occasion to sleep with anyone in the last decade or so - he had no one to be truly compared to besides the vaguest memories of acts and kinks played out before he’d even been born. The kiss he gave Kael was… suitable. Good. The hands that slid down Kael’s body were even better, and he encouraged their journey by arching his back towards Nortrom.

Though they were both dressed, the night was still young. They’d both been called up recently - Kael yesterday, and Nortrom today - so it wasn’t likely that they’d be needed tomorrow. They could give themselves a few hours of indulgence here. Kael certainly intended to indulge in the body he’d been watching for the past few months now. He’d seen it demonstrated both in the battlefield and outside his home; it was time to bring that to his bedroom next.

His nails scraped down the sides of his neck. “Let us move this to a more appropriate setting.”

Stone ground around them for a few moments, before the tower settled down. A new door opened up. It was placed right next to Nortrom’s, though the hall that led deeper into it was much more lavish and, if that was even possible, even more magic saturated than the rest of the tower. Kael’s personal bedroom, and where the tower’s lodestone was located.

 

The tower’s movement would perhaps startle someone, since it did feel as if the building’s sentience was watching every move, but Nortrom did not let it disturb his eager journey. Kael’s body was a treasure, a tribute to all the beauty in the world, and it was in his arms, free for his enjoyment. He would not waste this opportunity. Perhaps Kael would tire of him after just one night, but Nortrom would make it an unforgettable experience, even if it was just for himself.

He would have had Kael on the dining table too, but the elven mage of course opted for the classic and comfortable variety of sleeping together. Nortrom wasn’t going to address it as anything more crude than that. His hands cupped the fine curve of Kael’s behind, his grip firm and secure as he lifted himself and the mage out of the chair. If Kael would wrap his legs around his waist, it would fit all the better, but his weight was no trouble to Nortrom at all.

“As you wish.”

The journey was short and ended at Kael’s very own bed. Nortrom had never seen the room let alone the furnishings and at any other time, he would marvel at their lavish nature; but right now, there was a pliant, gorgeous mage in his arms and that was more important than any fancy fabrics and carved furniture. 

Kael was laid down carefully, with Nortrom stood before the bed, only long enough to let his shirt and boots come off. Shyness was for those with less ambition. His hands sought the openings of Kael’s robes, pulling and tugging in eager demand as Nortrom dove down for another kiss. Now that he had permission, he really couldn’t keep away. Kael’s lips were cool despite the recent meal and he tasted...decadent.

 

Kael barely had to move a finger, for Nortrom seemed to be a highly attentive lover. He’d only tightened his legs around his waist for the brief relocation to his bedroom, and then let Nortrom have the reins after that. Strong fingers pulled apart his robes, revealing the narrow chest underneath the layers, and Kael tilted his head up to accept another kiss. The delicious stark reality of their situation made an unmistakable warmth coil up in his chest. Kael had admired Nortrom’s physique for some time now, but this opportunity to explore further was not to be squandered.

His hands brushed over the flat planes of muscle, over the hard ridges of his abdominals, over the expansive back that was littered with scars. Nortrom felt like living fire until his cold hands, and Kael welcomed the heat that seeped into him from Nortrom’s body. However, their eager explorations were still largely stopped by several layers of clothing.

His fingertips flirted with the waistband of Nortrom’s breeches. “It is a shame you must insist on covering yourself up,” he purred, “when the view is so much better like this.”

 

Kael was a feast for the eyes. Nortrom couldn’t recall a lover he’d more eagerly undressed, or simply drank in the sight of. Smooth pale skin that surely had the sun weep for the right to kiss it. Fair hair fanned out across the spotless sheets. The fabrics peeled off of his body draped over the covers underneath Kael like the petals of the world’s most exquisite flower. Nortrom knew he was, perhaps, a little starstruck when it came to the Invoker, but who would blame him for his luxurious tastes in elven ideals?

Here was elven perfection, beauty incarnate. 

How he had deserved his attentions, he did not question tonight. Instead, he untied the breeches, pushing them out of Kael’s sight and away from his body. He had no shame in the tan of his skin or the scars marring his body. Elves did not have hair to hide unsightly ones away. 

“I’d say I have the best view in the world right now.”

Kael’s soft skin felt like cool velvet against his own. Nortrom allowed him a moment to survey his hardened body, before he leaned down to kiss the Invoker’s knee. Slowly, he did as he promised earlier and mapped out the exquisite body with his lips. Everything in him breathed fire and lust right now. This one night, it belonged to him.

 

He paused long enough to favor Nortrom with another look that raked over his entire body, face to legs. The view only affirmed his previous hypothesis that the rest of him carried the same theme of tanned, scarred, and…  _ hard _ .

Kael wanted to put his hands back on him again, but was pleasantly thwarted by Nortrom’s different track of thought. The hot mouth that traversed over his lower half was welcomed regardless and Kael added further support by pushing his hands through his dark hair. The thick locks quickly tangled around his thin fingers. Though Nortrom was still allowed free movement with his clever, clever mouth, Kael enjoyed giving him occasional tugs and pushes to guide him, indicating where he should be spending his time sucking and mouthing.

His leg hooked over one broad shoulder. Kael pressed it closer, craving the feeling of heated skin against his own, using his heel to ground down on Nortrom’s back and force him down. He arched his back when needed, spreading his legs and displaying more of his glorious person so not an inch went underlooked. He’d seen it fit to reward Nortrom’s intriguing nature with his splendid body. He would continue that vein of thought by giving him the privilege of being  _ allowed _ to pleasure him.

 

Nortrom was an attentive lover indeed, and when Kael spread his legs so nicely and tugged at his hair, the Silencer was prone to obedience. He worked his way up those delicate inner thighs, mouthing at his prize for being a good companion. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a reward for his loyalty, and some part of him took note of it, directly related to his rejection of Magina’s advice.

Right now though, there was far more tantalizing material to concern himself with. Kael didn’t have to drive Nortrom’s mouth onto him, the Silencer knew to do that all by himself. Sucking Kael’s cock between his lips was no difficult feat, nor would he linger too long on it. He had no intentions of having Invoker dictate what they would do here, in this bed. Nortrom was pliant company, but a domineering lover, and he’d make sure his host would know so too.

He was seated between Kael’s glorious legs, his waist in hand, tanned fingers splayed against near ivory skin. 

 

His eyes glowed brighter as Nortrom finally got to doing what Kael had been demanding all this time. He threw his head back against the sheets as his explorative hands fisted in Nortrom’s hair, entire body tensing as his hips rose off the bed. Gaining a lover was always an exciting journey in seeing how much they could do for him and, so far, Nortrom wasn’t failing.

His mouth fell open the longer Nortrom went on and he responded to each delightful motion of his tongue with an approving series of moans. His fingers flexed, periodically letting go and taking hold again. This was merely the beginning of their entire night’s activities, but it was an auspicious start. Heaven forbid if Nortrom expected  _ him _ to do this.

 

Nortrom did not, mainly because Kael was, for this moment, his to do with as he pleased, and he didn’t intend to waste any time convincing him of anything he may not wish to do. However, he also wasn’t intend on having the Invoker reach his pleasure just like this, writing enticingly on the bed. With a soft, wet pop, he let Kael’s member slide from his mouth, nuzzling at the base of it before his mouth explored lower, further.

As expected, Kael was perfect in every aspect, and no part of him was unflattering. Whether it was influenced by magic that he kept an eternally youthful body of beauty or not didn’t really matter. What Nortrom had in his hands and mouth felt real enough to get his blood pumping and wasn’t that all that mattered? His thoughts had shut down a while ago, pure instinct and experience guiding him onwards.

A kiss, a taste, before he angled his head to explore Kael’s entrance. He was not met by resistance, and that told him all he needed to know about how the Invoker pictured this experience.

 

Kael was just about to snap about  _ what _ he was thinking leaving off with something clearly successful when he felt that tongue probe elsewhere and his head fell back down to the bed with an approving sigh. Nothing about sex - what he could do, what was possible - was too strange or esoteric for him after near decades spent exploring all the possible reaches of elven sexuality. A few previous lovers had disappointed by showing their clear inexperience in their reluctance to step outside what was comfortable, and Kael had promptly kicked them to the curb for it. The fact that Nortrom was willing  _ without _ being prompted was an indubitably pleasing fact, and Kael raised his volume appropriately.

Kael’s back arched as he twisted, making a mess of his orderly bed, dragging Nortrom closer as his legs kept him close. He bucked, salacious sounds escaping his flushed lips, and his grip on Nortrom’s hair grew tight enough to verge on pain.

He was too dignified to ever let loose anything like a  _ sob _ , of course, so instead he groaned, voice shaking, as Nortrom’s expert tongue pushed deeper in.

 

Kael’s enthusiastic response was all the urging Nortrom needed to dedicate himself thoroughly to his task. It wasn’t exactly a chore, with those thighs wrapped over his shoulders and that voice ringing in his ears. And he had just barely gotten started, too. At this rate, he had to make sure not to wear Kael out before he too could find some ways to throw his moans around the lavish room.

He delved as deep as he could, ignoring the strong tugs on his hair and the movement of Kael’s hips against him, impatient perhaps, or simply very eager. The difference did not matter, the Invoker’s flushed body surely did. Was this Kael’s silent command to continue? Or was he enjoying himself so much that this would serve as the night’s exertion?

Nortrom swirled his tongue, trying to find an angle, a place, anything that was of noteworthiness for Kael. If he could make him climax several times in this night, he’d call it a success worthy of pride. But good things could not be rushed, so neither did he.

 

It was good that Nortrom was holding him up because Kael gave up on trying to support himself in any measure. His body was curled up in a position that might’ve been uncomfortable at any other time but, here and now, it opened him up to Nortrom’s tongue and all the wonders it could do. He pushed up against his hot mouth, eyes fluttering each time it plunged into him, and it took no effort, no effort at all, for Kael to find orgasm like that.

His last shuddering breath was in time with his orgasm, and it spilled out over his chest as Kael arched up like a bowstring, taut and trembling. His entire body stayed like that for a few spare moments, and his eyes closed as he fully indulged in the wave of pleasure as it crested up with him. After that, he came down with each slow breath, body relaxing as he did. His right leg slipped off Nortorm’s shoulder, and his knee rested against his hip instead.

Now, he could sense the slight ache in his neck. The mess on his chest was also concerning, if only because it was threatening to trail down his neck and into his hair.

“Clean me,” Kael ordered, and his voice only shook around the first syllable before his natural authority reasserted itself.

 

Nortrom had instead fully indulged in the sight offered to him. Kael, in the throes of an orgasm was a picture he was burning deep into his memory. It was beautiful to see this elf come undone, and Nortrom vowed to see it again and again, if only tonight. 

“Of course,” he uttered, voice deep and warm with desire as he leaned down, one arm on Kael’s hip, stroking the skin there gently, the other propping Nortrom’s heavy torso up so he wouldn’t put any weight on his new lover. He kissed and sucked at every droplet, as if it was a treat for him, not Kael.

Attentive was the name of the game. Nortrom seldom had elven lovers, his natural appearance repugnant to most he considered attractive. Advances from humans and others did not strike him as so appealing, but he accepted that he would never reach the elven ideal of a fair-haired, ethereal creature.

Like the one beneath him right now. Nortrom didn’t dare make marks, lest Kael would find that too invasive, but the possessive yearning in Nortrom’s heart shot higher and higher. Once Kael’s stomach was clean, he moved on up, kissing a perky nub here, Kael’s delicate neck there.

“You’re splendid...exquisite. I’ve never seen a more beautiful being.”

 

“No, you have not,” Kael agreed as he turned his body here and there to give Nortrom easier eaccess to his perfect form. Temporarily sated, he laid back on the bed with Nortrom peppering him with kisses and whispering more delicate praise that stoked the fire in Kael a little higher. Again, his hands went over Nortrom’s physique, touching what he’d previously restrained himself to watching.

He was solid. Every inch of him was unyielding, even after the recent exertion, and Kael could even forgive the light sweat. His sheets would be cleaned up anyway, and nothing could mar  _ him _ .

Shifting to his side a little, Kael cupped Nortrom’s face with one hand. “You will turn your eyes to no other,” he said, “not after  _ me _ .”

 

Nortrom nuzzled the hand given to him as he listened. Kael’s words were unnecessary. There was no one else that had Nortrom’s attention. True, he’d been preoccupied with the Invoker from his first day here, but even since then, no one had managed to be of interest. Or shown any interest. It wasn’t unusual for the Silencer to fade into the background when it came to measures of beauty, or the fickle world of sexual attraction.

Yet here he was, having struck gold, because the Invoker was naked beneath him in his bed. Where were those fellow students of his now, that would mock his skin, his ears, his dark hair and strong build? Oh yes. Dead. He almost regretted it now, considering how much he’d like to see it sink into their petty minds that the absolute perfection of their race, the Invoker, craved Nortrom all to himself.

“There’ll never be another,” he whispered, promised. He knew it to be true, because no one could measure up to Kael.

 

“Good.” Kael kissed him for that, satisfied by his willing,  _ eager _ desire to go along with his every whim. So obedient, so compliant… it was enough to send  _ shivers _ up his back. The brief respite gave Kael ample time to examine more of Nortrom without the haze of lust interfering, and his eyes inevitably wandered downward to see what had been jabbing him in the back before, while his legs had been up in the air.

“How pleasing,” he murmured, just loud enough for Nortrom to hear, as his hand ventured down to take hold of his cock. It was hot and rigid in his grasp, still eager for Kael. How long had he been putting off that obvious want of his? Did he have to endure it when they’d still been distant and limited to their study periods? He could not be blamed for his weakness -  _ who _ could ever resist  _ him _ ?

His grip tightened, and he gave it a few, deliberate strokes. “How long has this gone on?” Kael asked. Though he was naked, languishing, and loose after his orgasm, he had all the power in this exchange simply by gripping Nortrom here. Power was _ always  _ on his side. “Did you think of something like this on your own, Nortrom? Did you imagine it to be even  _ possible _ ?”

 

Was he honestly supposed to be answering a litany of questions right now? Nortrom had shoved his face into Kael’s chest to groan as soon as the grip on his cock became commanding. It was already straining to be finally in use, but Kael was jeopardizing Nortrom’s control immensely.

“I had...hopes.” he ground out from beneath gritted teeth. He had to breathe and try not to let go just yet. It would be entirely embarrassing if he just climaxed from a single touch, no matter how ready his body was to do just that. 

“A few daydreams.”

 

“Describe them,” Kael demanded. It was one thing to know he was desired - it was another to know how his glory affected others in close, intimate detail. All that power and control Nortrom always kept over himself seemed to shatter in Kael’s fist, and his eyes blazed brighter, ego eager to be stroked. “Dare not lie to me, Nortrom.”

He squeezed, and heat twisted down his core as he watched Nortrom strain, struggling. “What did you think you would do to me with this?” Now his hand did not stop, steadily rubbing while Kael’s eyes remained riveted to the red flush that darkened the already deep tan of Nortrom’s face. “That I would touch it, as I am now? Or that you would gain my favor enough to take me with it?”

His hand stopped cold. Kael leaned back, seemingly disinterested. “Answer me.”

 

When the touch, so intensive and demanding, suddenly fell away, Nortrom could not suppress the whine that squeezed from his throat. Kael’s words rattled around in his mind, fighting the thick cloud of desire hazing the poor Silencer’s thoughts. Kael was cruel, to demand such clarity when Nortrom could only think of the heavy heat pooled between his legs.

“I...” he had to pull something together if he wanted this to continue. And he did, so badly.

“I have thought about it...even during battle. When I face you...I can’t control my...my desire for you.”

It was humiliating, but true. His focus in battle was long since changed, no longer was defeating the Invoker a thing he wished to accomplish. He’d much rather slide the slender mage against a tower, a shrine, with his hands buried in his hair, and his cock buried deep inside of him.

“I want to have you. More than anything I’ve ever wanted.”

 

“Of course you do,” Kael said. His perfection knew no bounds, no borders. This helpless expression of want on Nortrom’s part inflamed him more than anything else. As long as he kept on being so loyal, so eagerly craving, then Kael could stand to bestow him all the earthly pleasures he strained for.

“Come, then,” the tower shifted a fraction as Kael rose up to his knees. He looked down at the hapless Silencer, pleased by the mess he’d become thanks to only a few touches. Kael could overwhelm  _ anyone _ with the full force of his majesty, and the stoic, grave Silencer he’d faced down not too long ago had succumbed as if he’d been made for it. Kael had noticed it, of course, as he noticed all things. He could see Nortrom faltering when they were made to face each other. His glaive never seemed to fly true in his direction and even his magic didn’t touch Kael as heavily as it touched other mages. That awe and lust he must’ve struggled with made him weak against Kael. 

Where was that esteemed silence _ now _ ?

He held up the bottle of oil the tower had been astute enough to provide for them. Its slick inner contents could be seen beyond the thin clear glass, sloshing when Kael gave it a small shake. “You have not disappointed me yet. Don’t start now.”

 

He wouldn’t. Nortrom was glad his confessions had pleased Kael enough to allow him to continue. With eager hands, he took the bottle and uncorked it. He may not have had the experience all that often, but he was a quick study and an eager student. Kael had presented him with a reward and he would not waste time on mistakes.

His fingers slick, he returned to what his tongue had explored before. He would not cause Kael any pain, no matter how painfully hard and eager he was. 

“I will not disappoint you. Not in this lifetime,” he murmured, testing and massaging, working diligently to prepare for what he craved so desperately. To be one with Kael, to take him and feel as if he belonged to him. 

 

Kael relaxed easily, and a finger already slid into him. Nortrom’s eagerness had created some wetness below already and he spread his knees a little to give him more room to work in. “Don’t take too long,” Kael said, snaking an arm around Nortrom’s neck. His mouth found his neck and he nosed along the muscles there, before delivering a bite to his ear.

How much time had passed? He scarcely had the opportunity to look at a clock since they’d gotten lost here in their oasis away from the war. Nortrom’s hands on him were all that mattered. Kael pressed his face into his neck, and inhaled his scent. No, not at all like an elf. It should have repulsed him, but Kael only pressed closer. If  _ he _ was the perfection of elvenkind, then Nortrom was an anomaly of it. It intrigued him. It fascinated him.

And he found that he  _ did _ crave that fulfilment of Nortrom’s own keen desire. It was a reward to both him and Kael; Nortrom for being so interesting, and Kael for having discovered him. “Hurry up,” he hissed into his ear, “my patience has ran out.”

 

No more dallying then. Nortrom didn’t need to be told twice. It wasn’t for his comfort that he had been taking this so properly and slowly. His cock was straining to feel enclosed, longing for Kael’s tightness to embrace it.

With a nod, Nortrom pulled out his slick fingers, shaking lightly as he coated his member as best he could and brought it into position. There was no reason to be nervous, he knew he had a good natural instinct for this, but Kael was...Kael was everything right now. The toxic admiration of his beauty had infected Nortrom’s every waking thought.

With one hand on Kael’s waist, holding him still, and the other still keeping his weight off of the delicate mage, Nortrom pushed himself inside, barely silencing his needy moan as he did. It felt just as he had expected; wonderful, hot despite Kael’s cold skin, tight and welcoming bliss to relieve his impatience.

“ _ Kael. _ ..” he uttered the name to become his mantra.

 

Kael moaned with him. Being spread open was always a new, beautiful experience. Nortrom’s cock was hot inside him, effortlessly impaling him until Kael thought he could be filled no more. His nails dug into his shoulders, leaving indentations, and slowly they fell back to the bed again. Kael held Nortrom close as his hips bucked, trying to take in more of him and find the perfect angle that would let them both come closer together.

“Don’t - don’t silence yourself,” Kael gasped out. He’d caught the last trace of Nortrom’s hushed noise and it displeased him. Nortrom was here for his pleasure; how dare he stifle even an  _ ounce  _ of what was Kael’s right to have? 

 

Kael’s voice, on the edge of wavering, raced another surge of heat down Nortrom’s spine. To make him lose his composure was well worth making a few ridiculous noises. Alright. He would not temper his tongue, nor his lust for the Invoker, which was being fulfilled as they spoke. He wanted to revel in the depth of their connection, wanted to linger and kiss and touch, telling Kael how amazing he felt. But that would be disappointing when he was expected to work every inch of pleasure into Kael’s being that he could. He set the rhythm of his hips somewhere above careful so as not to bore the mage. It wasn’t quite romantic, but it definitely fuelled his flames.

“Kael,” he repeated, moaning loudly this time as the Invoker just gripped at him with every thrust in deeper. It would be impossible for him to hold anything back for long. The arm previously only loosely occupied now snaked under Kael, holding on to the small of his back and pressing his body hard to Nortrom’s, until he could feel Kael’s member pressed flush between them. He almost wished himself to be two people, just so he could administer all the attention Kael deserved, to every part of him.

“Kael, this is...incredible.” Words were starting to take a long vacation from his tongue, which much preferred leaving severe kisses on Kael’s neck, his collarbone, his shoulders.

 

“As - as it should be,” Kael panted. His speech was interrupted by only a few gasps as he held onto Nortrom, using him as his only support as he rode his thrusts out. His hips had already been lifted off the bed marginally, giving him no recourse but to open up to Nortrom’s increasingly insistent pace.

“More,” he demanded. He wanted to feel exhausted after this. If he would let Nortrom have this, then they would not uselessly sit around a half-baked attempt - Nortrom was to please Kael, and so he had to  _ excel _ in every possible way. The current rhythm was good, but not enough. “Harder!”

Kael had spent enough time watching that body. Now, Nortrom could show him what he was  _ really _ capable of. 

 

A command he wouldn’t disobey. Nortrom had plenty more to give, and he poured more of himself into his thrusts, really pushing as far, as deep as he could into Kael. Their skin ground together, their bodies intertwined, and it was glorious. Nortrom didn’t bother to keep thinking, he knew this rhythm well enough and Kael had given every instruction he needed to. With his hands on Kael’s backside, he could hold him tight and still, just to find another angle for his thrusts. Groans tumbled from his lips, maybe a curse here and there, Kael’s name. It was unbelievable, how he had deserved such a treat. To think he was right here, sleeping with the Invoker, when he’d been nothing for so long in his life...he could think of the honor later. There was a gorgeous elf he was completely entangled with and sunk into up to the base of his cock.

With an almighty pull, Nortrom had Kael up, pressed against his torso and riding on his thighs. Upwards, he could give his thrusts a little more, could explore deeper.

“Kaeeel,” the moan was insistent, the grip almost bruising as Nortrom demanded another kiss to drown anything Kael might have to say.

 

“Ah-!” Kael made a surprised sound when he was suddenly wrenched up from his prone position. The change was immediate - his toes curled as Nortrom managed to sink that extra needed inch and Kael hugged him closer as he hissed, head bent. The kiss he accepted with bruising force, taking everything that Nortrom would give him and then some. Kael’s hair, wild after all the tossing around, fell around Nortrom’s face as he took hold of his face, cupping it in both hands while they kissed.

_ Yes _ , Kael thought as he watched the kaleidoscope of different emotions flit around on Nortrom’s face,  _ you are mine. Mine to keep, mine to study.  _ Nortrom had given up his person to Kael tonight, and he’d let his boundless kindness manifest by taking him up on his offer. This was the greatest honor he could ever have. 

He was getting close, he could tell. His whole body was made up of lightning and sparks, and it raced down his limbs as it demanded release. Kael’s vision hyper-focused on Nortrom’s face, keeping him always in sight as his body strained to keep up with the intensity of his thrusts. Each new push struck something deep inside him, making his back arch anew, and Kael rode it, hips moving in direct opposition to Nortrom’s to make every meeting that much more powerful, until he managed to fall over that final precipice.

 

Nortrom was ready on that ledge for a long time already, possibly from the moment he sank into Kael’s bed. But his will and stamina kept him going until he could feel that telltale tension in Kael’s body, pressing him as close as possible. This time, he didn’t have the time and patience to be courteous. When Kael tumbled over the edge, he ripped Nortrom with him, mercilessly squeezing and tightening around him. Nortrom buried his face in Kael’s neck, strands of gold blinding his vision, cool skin no longer cold as he groaned deep into it, spilling himself into Kael with no restraint. 

He’d risk the wrath of the Invoker for the feeling coursing through him right now. It wouldn’t subside quickly either, wave after wave rewarding him for his long-lasting patience. Kael’s body was squeezed in his arms, pressed to himself in an embrace as they remained tangled, limbs snaked around each other.

Nortrom breathed heavily, eyes closed, sucking down the barely present scent of his lover and realized that he was utterly doomed, ruined for anyone else. Never would he be able to take on another human, another quick and shameful romp in the dark. How could any light be bright enough once one stared into the sun?

 

Sated now, Kael let his golden head rest against Nortrom’s hot shoulder. His entire body was pleasantly buzzing with the aftermath of the sex. Even the suspicious dripping he could forgive for now, if only so he might better savor the feeling of being deservedly well-fucked.

His knees had sprawled out around Nortrom’s hips. Kael drew them a little closer, shifting his weight and felt the cock inside him move when he did. There was a stickiness on his chest again - likely his release. That was fine; Nortrom would clean it up as dutifully as he had the previous mess. Idly, Kael ran his fingers through the bushy mess that Nortrom called hair.  _ Needs a cut _ , he thought distantly. Sweat-slicked or not, it felt pleasant to card his fingers through it.

“That was… satisfactory,” he breathed out. His knees rested on either side of Nortrom’s ribs. Kael kept his hands on his shoulders after he finished with his hair. “You’ve pleased me enough to stay.”

More would come, Kael was sure of it. He wanted a few more tastes of tonight before he would consider making Nortrom leave, if it ever actually came to that. So far, his studies still were in their fledgling stages. There was simply too much to do with the Silencer to have him slip away.

Kael’s arms went around his neck, giving him a good hold. “I expect  _ further _ from you.”

 

Nortrom was exhausted. He’d fought an entire battle today, as well as sparring, training and now, this wonderful little treat. This day had been full of surprises for him, and this one was the best. He had a lap full of Invoker, and he was being praised. Kael expected more from him. That meant...this was not a one time occurrence. He would get to prove to Kael just how much he had to offer. Nortrom wanted to kiss him, but somehow, the moment for that was over. Holding him tightly like this also seemed almost too personal, for they had not fully moved into the realm of being lovers, had they?

But Kael was so close, Nortrom could not resist cuddling his face into the offered skin and sighing deeply, happily.

“I look forward to showing you more.” Kisses, soft and sweet, on Kael’s sweaty skin. He still smelled faintly like orchids, which were peppered over the tower here and there. His favourites, perhaps?

Nortrom wanted to spoil, wanted to lavishly massage and bathe his newfound wonder, but he doubted Kael was quite so willing to spend all of his time indulging Nortrom’s fantasies.

 

“I meant now,” Kael said. He lifted his head to look into Nortrom’s eyes. The challenge was back again as Kael gave a deliberate squeeze to the cock buried within him. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with a few mere tumbles like a  _ mortal _ \- Kael was as close to godly as any creature on this plane could ever be and his desires matched that. With a moment to catch his breath, he was raring to go again.

He was fully capable of fighting battles for days on end without sleep. His mana stores were enough to pull the very  _ stars _ down to earth. Two orgasms weren’t going to knock  _ him _ down.

“You  _ are _ capable of that, are you not?”

 

Nortrom perked up. Oh. Well. This was definitely different to the humans he’d been with.


	8. Chapter 8

Exhaustion was a thing easily slept off for elves like Nortrom, who made do with less and battled for days and nights if they had to. A night with only a few hours could have him entirely refreshed by the morning.

To wake up in a lavish bed with the faint scent of orchid in his nose and a slender body pressed to his own was more than reward for a night of wellfound pleasure. Nortrom’s arms lay around Kael’s waist and shoulder, the mage’s form fitting nicely against his front. Kael’s hair tickled his face but Nortrom made no attempt to move it. He had to take in the beauty of this moment.

Last night was not a fever dream of his pent up desires. He really had gone rounds with the Invoker, been buried deep in him and tasted him on his tongue. Nortrom nestled his head back into the position it had been in, resting close to Kael, though his eyes, he couldn’t close anymore. He had to keep himself silent, but that was a well-practiced action.

He didn’t dare speak anyway, not wishing to disturb the sleep of the magnificent elf in his arms. Who had taken him in, taken a deep interest and now, saw fit to make him his lover. If Nortrom hadn’t already known what was growing in his heart, he’d know it this morning.

He was falling for this arrogant immortal elf, hard and fast and irreversibly. 

 

Kael and sleep had a strange relationship. He either barely slept or he indulged in it like a glutton. Whereas most people’s work schedules worked  _ around _ their sleeping schedule, Kael’s did the exact opposite. He slept when he decided his work could be let to rest, and barely managed more than three hours when his attention was consumed by something far more interesting and important than sleep.

Normally, he would have done his best to eliminate the need to sleep entirely, but his failed memory spell from his youth had taken that from him. He could forego sleep or ignore it, but the need would eventually raise its ugly head.

Nestled in Nortrom’s hot arms, he could recline in the grips of what he normally considered an enemy to his work ethic. Nortrom’s heat was comforting, not stifling, and Kael pressed closer and deeper into it as he slumbered. They would need to bathe after last night’s exertions but Kael was a master at ignoring what matters he deemed irrelevant. His magic would pick it up, eventually, and the tower would take care of the bed.

God forbid either of them be called away for battle. Kael would murder any Ancient that interrupt his sacred repose by calling on him or his current source of comfort, Nortrom.

 

Even if the horn of battle sounded for him, Nortrom wouldn’t move. He brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, if only so he could get a clear view of the mage, asleep. He was breathtaking, even when he was doing nothing. Nortrom felt his heart start racing again. Oh no. This was really turning into something he’d never even vaguely approached. He had feelings for Kael, that much had become blindingly obvious. He’d been willing to scorn his best friend, abandon his duties and slack on his skill in battle for this elf. His heart was dangerously close to the edge of his sleeves, and he knew it would be a terrible idea.

One night of shared lust did not make for a love story, Nortrom was not that naive.

He would not wake Kael. Watching him like this felt like something forbidden already, but he made no motion to stop or sink back to sleep. He kissed Kael’s head, softly, looking around guiltily as if the tower itself would rise up to slap him out of the mage’s bed.

 

The tower  _ did _ rise, but not in the way Nortrom feared. The blinds on the windows had been drawn to let Kael slumber peacefully, but a sliver of light was given to Nortrom’s side of the bed. The door opened (silently) and a little tray bearing a cup of lemon water flew in. Kael had outlawed all forms of food in bed but a drink or two wouldn’t go amiss.

The tray settled down on the nightstand, and the lemon water insistently inched closer. Almost like an afterthought, a straw flew in and slid itself into the water between the ice. In another part of the tower, water was already being prepared and heated in a tub for when the Silencer would come round for his dip.

The little bit of light crept too close, unfortunately, and Kael frowned when it slid over his face. The tower hastened to close the blinds enough, but Kael already burrowed deeper into the blankets. His legs and Nortrom’s tangled further under the sheets as he somehow found a way to wind his foot around his ankle.  _ Don’t _ interrupt my sleep, his entire body seemed to say unconsciously.

 

Nortrom was utterly trapped, it seemed, though he didn’t mind resting in bed for a good, long while. The drink was appreciated and he mouthed a thank you in direction of the ceiling. The tower was almost a friend now, but perhaps he was being a little ridiculous about the building’s sentience. It was simply reading his needs and providing them, like any arcane structure would. But he liked to think it appreciated his presence here as he sipped lemon water, whilst making sure not to jostle Kael.

Who slept like the dead when he wanted to. Nortrom kept him pressed to his chest but sat up a little, allowing the mage to continue sleeping, but also for Nortrom to reach for one of the books on the nightstand. Which, in hindsight, was a wasted idea, because the language whatever spell was written in on these pages made little sense to the Silencer.

He stayed in bed until early afternoon, trying to decipher books, a hand in Kael’s hair, stroking the nape of his neck and staying quiet in his bliss. It could stay like this, he mused. Just he and Kael in this tower.

 

Kael woke when the sun was high in the sky and his body demanded that he move after staying still for so long. He nuzzled the warm thing next to him as he extracted his body out of whatever strange position he’d managed to entangle himself in this time, and sighed as he woke. He always woke clean, so he did not have to waste his time with morning rituals like other people, but a little stretch wouldn’t be too out of line. And there was the matter of the still-warm thing next to him.

Kael opened his eyes and was greeted by an expanse of brown, scarred skin. Nortrom.

“Good morning,” he purred. 

 

“Good afternoon,” he greeted gently. His body was beginning to get restless, wishing to be cleaned though he had not dared to move Kael. And he also wouldn’t have wasted a second of watching Kael sleep, curled against him, soaking the heat from his limbs like a cold lizard after a frigid night. There was something about Kael that just did not seem to hold warmth in whatever form.

Nortrom would ignore it. He had enough heat in his body for the two of them. Kael had just rolled gently out of his arms and he already missed the weight of him so close. The incomprehensible book in his hand found its way back to the nightstand.

 

Kael managed to make the simple act of rolling up and off the bed look like living art. He brushed his hair back with an idle flick and walked around the bed, uncaring of his naked nature. The tower was quickly shifting into activity as the smell of food wafted up from the unseen kitchens and Kael’s own morning drink was ferried over to him. He sipped it absently as his magic took hold.

Sweat was whisked off his body and banished. His hair’s luster returned as it straightened out of the tangles that’d been made. Every piece of imperfection that could’ve been on him was wiped away until Kael looked like he just needed to dress to be ready to walk into the public eye.

The old robes were gone from the floor, along with Nortrom’s discarded clothes. A freshly laundered set floated in and Kael threw on the robe and let the fasteners do themselves up for him. He straightened the wrists before leaving without a second glance to Nortrom. He had a whole day ahead of him and Nortrom currently didn’t occupy his mind. Later, maybe.

 

A silent dismissal, if any. Nortrom took his clothes, but did not dress yet. Unlike Kael, he was still drenched in last night’s exertions and didn’t want to ruin the freshly laundered set.

Kael had not spoken and so he wasn’t expecting anything out of Nortrom, who left the room after a moment of observation. 

The bath was already prepared when he got to it, and he sank in with gratitude, but a numb little bubble over his heart. Of course Kael would carry on, flawless, unaffected. It had been a night’s pleasure, not a commitment. Of course he knew that.

So why did he feel a little colder, a little more rejected? It was a childish notion to cling to more than what was given and he needed to regain a little dignity and control over his own emotions. With a heavier sigh, he sank into the water up to his nose. This...situation needed some thinking, if not old fashioned brooding. Perhaps he should dedicate himself to training today, and not idle contemplation.

 

-x-

 

It was as if nothing had changed at all, for the rest of the day. Kael went about the tower, content to keep to his studies and Nortrom wistfully stared when and where he could.

 

Kael quickly immersed himself within the operations of his day again. Nortrom was passed over for later consideration as more priority topics took over his mind. He set up all the important projects that would be completed that night - the new collar engravings for the next series of tests, the few potions he wanted to make for his own private testing, some rune translation for later reading - before organizing his tower. The scries were checked, the wards were renewed, and Kael kept tabs on every concerning member of either side to make sure they were being stupid as usual.

_ Good _ .

It was midday when he finished.

“Nortrom,” he called.

 

The moping bath had turned into a decently productive day, with Nortrom working on the silencing enchantment of his shield, right until Kael summoned him. He could speak his name anywhere in the tower and the Silencer would hear it, intentionally or not. Arcane buildings had their own way of carrying sound.

“Yes?”

As splendid as Kael looked in clothing...Nortrom missed the sight of his naked body, pressed to him for warmth.

 

“Come over here,” Kael indicated his side. When Nortrom was close enough, Kael leaned against him as he pulled down a scrying mirror so he could see. It showed an overview of the whole battlefield, and the figures moving around it. Some areas were shrouded with fog but the two camps of Radiant and Dire and the ant-like figures of the heroes and creeps that passed between the three lanes were clearly visible.

“There,” he said, pointing out the different heroes. “Look at them scurry back and forth. Zeus has been called forth - this means my turn to be called upon will soon be upon us. The Dire Ancient is nothing if not predictable.”

To the Radiant side, he pointed out another hero. “That one - I care not for his name, he is worthless anyway - is always called before you are. Our turns for the battlefield will coincide this time.”

His hand cupped Nortrom’s face from the side, turning it so he could face Kael. “You will fight me again,” he told him, “but will your confessions from last night remain the same?”

 

Nortrom wanted to melt into the cool touch and maybe grin, because this touch was as reminiscent of the previous night as Kael’s words. He remembered his confessions clearly, loudly in his own mind. About how he wanted Kael in the midst of a war neither would ever win. What did the ancients’ battles mean to them but an eternal irritation?

But now, things had shifted around Kael and himself. He shuddered with anticipation. Yes. Yes he would very much still hold those fantasies up as true.

“A little sleep has not cost me my imagination, no. I would have you,” Nortrom indicated the jungles, the shrines and even the towers, “anywhere I meet you. Anywhere I see you. I cannot resist.”

 

“That much is apparent,” Kael said, and pulled down Nortrom long enough to give him a kiss that almost could’ve been fond. It didn’t go deeper than that, and Kael’s attention soon slid back to the scry again. Lights flashed as spells were thrown around. Faintly, he could hear the cries of the heroes on the battlegrounds.

_ Anywhere _ , hm? Kael might have to take him up on that someday, if not now. Teasing these answers out of Nortrom was rapidly becoming a source of secret pleasure for him now. “Does that apply even  _ now _ ?”

The potions needed time to brew. Kael would normally spend that time reading, but he had a new way to pass the time.

 

“It does,” Nortrom needed no education on what Kael meant. He’d spent weeks, months around him now, and he understood that when the Invoker took on that teasing tone, he was quite adamant about what he wanted ‘delivered’. Nortrom had sworn not to disappoint him, had he not?

He dove in for a second kiss, and with it, Kael’s body, because he lifted it quite physically out of the chair and onto the table, the scrying orb discarded as well as the gruesome scenes it was depicting.

“It applies every moment that I breathe, Kael.”

 

“That’s what I thought,” Kael shot back smugly as he tilted his head back for Nortrom to ravage once again.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

The day passed. Kael and Nortrom worked on their private designs, ate, then enjoyed each other’s bodies with the fresh eagerness of newly-made lovers. Kael approached it with almost the same hunger as Nortrom did, though his mind wasn’t nearly as preoccupied by the thought as Nortrom’s was. When it did, however… Nortrom found himself snatched out of whatever he was doing to fulfill whatever desire flooded Kael’s mind that time.

The night came, and they spent it similarly, though far less intensely. Kael almost kicked Nortrom out of his bed when he threatened to go too roughly for the mage, and was only appeased by a whole hour of coaxing and praising. And plenty of body worship, but that was a given.

The horn that called them for battle was blown early the next morning, as according to Kael’s predictions. He still looked irritated when he got up and dressed. The heavy battle robes settled around him, as did his reagents, but Kael looked like he thought the whole thing was a waste of time. Which he did, rather loudly.

“A mage of  _ my _ caliber has better things to do than loiter around a mud-encrusted, beast-ridden field to step on ants,” he complained stridently, “those imbeciles hardly deserve to be  _ looked _ at by me, much less spoken to or associated with.”

 

Nortrom took considerably longer to prepare for battle, having to strap up the heavy robes, then the leather of the armor’s underside, then the metal pauldrons, helm and gauntlets that protected him moderately well in battle. He felt stuffy in it now, having spent so much of his time free of it in the tower, being about as modest as the Invoker about parading around in little clothing. It was almost a vacation at a homely, arcane resort, living here in the tower.

Battle included not just ‘mud’ as Kael put it, but for Nortrom hard work, excruciating pain and often death. He’d bled out, been ripped limb from limb, impaled, trampled, decapitated, and devoured. Sometimes burned alive, sometimes frozen or drowned. The myriad of cruel offenses never ceased to amaze him in the worst way.

He wasn’t looking forward to facing Kael once more. At least he wasn’t called for mid lane, but to support Magina in his quest to dominate the entire field.

“You’ll have to explain to me at some point in time why you chose to join the war of the ancients.” 

 

“So I can find wonders like you,” Kael told him as he checked his final arrangements in the mirror. He looked put together. When a diadem floated over, he let it rest on his brow to complete the final image. There. It was time for the greatest, most illustrious, and most beautiful figure this war would ever see to descend upon the rabble. “It is a tool to me, and nothing more. When I bore of it, I will depart.”

The door to the tower opened up for them. The paths to the Radiant and Dire camps were forked, and Kael - now the Invoker - walked down his own path with a parting shot at Nortrom.

“Let’s see if you’ve learned anything new by my side,  _ Silencer _ .”

 

“We shall see.” Nortrom kept it short, and cryptic. He doubted he could summon the heart to throw his glaive in Kael’s direction at all. What if he actually pierced his body with it? The same body he held close and pressed his face into, the body he worshipped and the face of the elf he loved? There was no world in which Nortrom would enjoy taking Kael’s life.

And it would show.

The battle began, as always. Magina kept a distinctly sullen silence about himself today, leaving no room for Nortrom to begin even an uneasy conversation. It suited the Silencer just fine not to speak, though it made their teamwork suffer, letting the enemy get away unpunished time and time again.

“Just leave me. I’ll be fine on my own.” Magina snapped, after teleporting back from the base a third time. Nortrom was out of it today, that much was certain.

“You’ll die.”

“At least you won’t be here to commentate.”

“Fine.”

To the jungle then. There were wards in his arm to place, a mid lane to perhaps surprise. Although he’d been asked to multiple times, he’d simply stayed with Magina, claiming the Anti-Mage could not be left to his own devices. 

The river seemed so peaceful. Nortrom knew it would run red before the end of the day, but for now, it looked clear and full of life. If he crossed it, he’d be in Dire territory. Which is where the ward was needed. He rounded the tower where Kael would be, undoubtedly winning his lane. It made his heart pound harder just to think of him. Perhaps a glance...No, the ward first.

Diligently, it was placed and he began to find his way back through the trees. He emerged a little closer to the midlane, if only to catch a glimpse of how Invoker was faring against the Storm Spirit, a jolly fellow with a very annoying tongue.

What Nortrom had not counted on was that he was not the only one with the idea to see what was happening at midlane. 

He could feel the spell just as Lion’s nasty laughter broke on through the quiet of the forest, the earth coming up beneath his feet in heavy spikes. He didn’t just trip, it shot through the armor and his knee. Broken bones were a given on a battlefield, but usually Nortrom wasn’t on his own and helpless. The scream of pain was muffled to a groan as he tried to bring up his shield to hide behind.

Not that it would do much to protect him from the lord of Avernus, whose cold eyes glimmered from his hood before he brought down his sword, icy as the undeath he embodied. It ripped through his shoulder first, making it impossible to hold up the shield and Nortrom knew there was no escape. He sank to the ground, accepting the pain and darkness. It was nothing new, but death was never easy to surrender to.

 

Whenever Kael was called up, a very special agreement was put into place between him and whoever was unfortunate enough to be his allies for that day’s battle. It was aptly named Stay The Hell Out Of My Way Or Die. Kael guarded the mid lane jealously from his allies and made it known that under no circumstances were they to go tromping in  _ his _ territory. He needed no support to handle his own lane. Few ever complained because Kael  _ was _ very good at putting his claim on the whole lane after demolishing the towers early in the battle.

So when he sensed two Dire heroes intruding on his space, Kael quickly turned with his eyes blazing, fury etched on his face. “Leave!” he thundered.

Lion and Abbadon both looked up and seemed inclined to argue with him. However, Kael had a reputation for not hesitating to kill his allies if he thought they were offensive enough. Since both of them cared about victory far more than he did - and since this lane  _ was _ being handled - they melted back instead. Kael’s hand relaxed from the angry claw it’d become and he didn’t complete the incantation for meteor.  _ Yet _ . Storm Spirit might show his unsightly blue mug around here soon, and Kael would be obligated to smash a burning space rock into it.

After checking on the rubble, he walked to whatever thing had drawn the attention of his allies. It was some Radiant hero, crumpled like trash…

No. He  _ recognized _ that armor. He hadn’t seen it in action for some time, sure, but he knew the elven design of from seeing it hung on an armor rack for so many days.

“Silencer,” he snapped as he walked closer, “what are you doing? Get up!”

Honestly, what was Nortrom thinking? Just wasting time like this… had he come to see Kael, perhaps? Admire him? Foolish, but understandable…

“Silencer. Rise now, or die.”

Was that blood he saw?

Kael checked his surroundings again - he’d killed the fools of this lane, they wouldn’t come here - before bending down to check. Nortrom was bleeding out. Heavily. Too heavily - only strong magic would save him, and that would attract attention. With a grunt, Kael rolled him over. It was no easy feat - Nortrom weighed like a bull with all that extra armor on, not to mention the fact that his naked body itself was heavy all on its own.

So he was right. Nortrom was dying.

For some reason, that made Kael immeasurably furious. How  _ dare _ his worthless allies do this and interrupt what should’ve been a period of admiration for Kael? In their stupid blundering buffoonery, they’d interfered with  _ Kael’s _ business. Nortrom was supposed to be  _ his _ target anyway. Were Lion and Abbadon mages?  _ No _ ! They were just scum that found no other purpose but senseless brutality in the only place that would accept their disgusting persons. How dare they intrude on  _ his _ lane, kill  _ his _ target, and worst of all - most  _ grievous _ of all -  _ take what was his? _

This could not be left to stand. Clearly, Kael had been far too lenient on his worthless associates. They would need to be curbed in their excesses and  _ taught _ why Invoker was the greatest of them all. He would  _ grind _ their worthless, useless, pointless existences under his heel until their souls trembled at seeing him, and then  _ make sure _ that they did not touch what he marked as  _ his _ , lane  _ or _ hero.

Nortrom’s body was beginning to fade away, picked up by the Ancient magic that would revive him. Kael had never had to experience that. Kael would have to fix that too - how dare Nortrom die to anyone else but Kael? Did he not realize that he was only allowed to give that option to one person?

“Unforgivable!” Kael hissed as he straightened. His reagents glowed as he turned his back on Radiant - he had two  _ idiots _ to slaughter.

 

Nortrom gasped air back into his lungs as the Radiant spat him back into life. His body, wherever it had been on the battlefield, was repaired, fully functional, a miracle of magic and the curse of this war. He looked at the fountain, and the ancient itself, a bright mass of rock, trees and blue, life-giving energy. Was all of this even worth it? What would each ancient gain? Perhaps Kael knew. He’d ask him tonight, after this pointless conflict ran its course.

He was so tired of it. If given the choice, he would leave this fight. If Kael left this war? Nortrom was quite sure he’d follow.

Oh by the demons, he really was a fool struck down with the affliction known as love. 

“Silencer! What are you doing?! We need you!”

Magina’s voice transferred from the front lines, urging and reprimanding in one. Right. War. Battle. Defense of the Ancients.

He began the teleportation spell, hefting his shield to his shoulder. He wouldn’t be caught off-guard again.

 

-x-

 

The battle was decisively in Radiant’s favor at the end of the day. With over half the team disabled by in-fighting, Dire was quickly crushed by a concentrated assault by Radiant. Kael paid no mind to the infuriated, dying screams of his allies as he progressively hunted down Lion and Abbadon. Each time they died, he returned to camp to wait for them. Most of the time, they did not have time to actually leave the camp before he was after them again. They only moved when Radiant stormed the camp, at which point Kael was content to sit back and let them be caught in the shitstorm as he leaned out and sniped them if they tried to escape the fight in the Dire grounds.

Kael took particular pleasure in using his magic to freeze them and letting the enemies catch them, or walking to their prone bodies as he monologued about how astoundingly, astonishingly, incredibly stupid, inadequate, and malformed they were in every way and how their worst mistake was to cross  _ him _ .

When he walked off that battlefield, he walked out to silence. It wasn’t often he turned on his allies, but the older ones remembered how easily his arrogance could turn to blinding fury at whatever perceived slight he saw. The two idiots seemed to think it was because they’d entered the mid lane while he was in it, and Kael was content to let them go on thinking that.

He entered the tower still steaming, and waited for Nortrom to haul his armored behind in as well. He was still  _ dirty _ from the lessons he’d taught, but that could  _ wait _ .

 


	10. Chapter 10

The Radiant celebrated their victory without any regard for the lack of skill that had brought it to them today. Nortrom felt particularly off. The enemy had been Kael, but he had not seen him once. No meteors, no strikes of sunlight to scorch the life out of his allies...as if the Invoker had never been involved. How was he supposed to interpret that?

Pity?

Did Kael pity him and allow the radiant to gain victory?

He passed the tavern, covered in blood from the creeps and mud from the battlefield. Magina had let him be, Sven had given him a look once over before waving him off. Nortrom could still feel the ache in his leg from being impaled...it had been healed of course, but sometimes Nortrom recalled the battles he’d had before. The ones that left all of his scars. The ones that mattered.

What was he doing here, except losing years of his life?

 

Kael waited. And waited. His impatience made him pull up a scry to check where Nortrom was, and he was appalled to find him slowly plodding towards the tower like he had  _ all day _ to get here. The  _ nerve _ of the him.

_ Hurry up _ , the forest rustled as soon as he passed the threshold.  _ I want to speak to you. Run if you must. _

 

Running was not in Nortrom right now. His shield almost dragged on the ground by the time he followed the winding path up to the tower. A hot bath would help, surely, to ease his thoughts and the stabbing little memories of pain all over his body. And a nice meal would ease the rut he felt stuck in.

Kael had need of him though, so that would take priority.

Finally, he slipped into the tower, which immediately moved his bloody glaive and dirty shield as he put them on the ground. Nortrom peeled off his helmet, hair in a terribly messy bun as he strode towards Kael’s central desk.

“...What was so important you would have me run in my armor?”

 

“You died today,” Kael said in a tone that could have been almost accusing. His brow furrowed. Kael didn’t actually spend much time  _ watching _ Nortrom on the scries when he was fighting - his time was occupied by better, greater things than watching other people fight their own battles. Now, however, he was beginning to wonder how  _ often _ Nortrom actually died. “To Lion and Abbadon, of all people. Does this happen commonly?”

He’d always assumed Nortrom was more than just another hero on the battlefield. If  _ Kael _ paid him attention, then of course he stood head and shoulders above the rest of the trash. To have him be anything else was  _ wrong _ .

Kael didn’t associate with the  _ weak _ .

“Not usually those two, no,” Nortrom wondered how Kael had even noticed. As far as he was concerned, Kael never even left the lane. He’d died as pathetically on his own as he had been on his walk home. Maybe he was feeling a little glum about it.

His pauldrons came off, piece by piece.

“I have met death a fair few times. My talents afford me attention and ire.”

Especially by heroes who relied on spells for their livelihood. Kael didn’t know, because Nortrom never gave him the full assault of his talents.

 

Kael’s eyes narrowed. Yes… he could understand that. Petty mages with middling talent, confronted by their own inadequacy,  _ would _ be the type to attempt an attack on Nortrom if only to sate their own lack of skill. Kael was above it all, so  _ he _ had never noticed the squabbling of the rats under him… but now he’d laid a claim to Nortrom, and this matter could not be allowed to persist.

“That is no longer acceptable,” Kael told him stiffly. He flicked his fingers and the tower gave Nortrom’s glaive and shield. He examined their make -  _ really _ examined it. Kael tapped the metal, turned it over in his hands, weighing and feeling every inch of it until he suddenly dumped it all on the floor with a crash.

“This is trash,” he announced. “No wonder you are dying so easily fighting with something so unreliable.”

He pulled the armor pieces to himself too and gave it the same treatment before tossing it away with another declaration of its worthlessness.

“You need something made by someone who  _ actually  _ knows what they are doing,” Kael announced. “Someone with talent, and not a pathetic armorer from the backwaters. I will make you something better than this  _ tinfoil _ .”

He aimed a vicious kick at the shield, as if it were solely to blame for his witnessing of Nortrom’s painful and prolonged death that day.

 

“Kael...” Nortrom didn’t know if that was flattering or insulting. His armor wasn’t made by some backwater smith, it had been taken, claimed, by him from the archmage of the Aeol Drias. It had been forged for years, enchanted for longer than Nortrom had been alive.

True, he had never upgraded any part of it, but it was reliable and saved his life in plenty other situations than today.

“It’s...fine you...what has bothered you so today? This is not like you, to care.”

_ For my safety. _

Nortrom didn’t dare let it cook up some warm, fuzzy feelings inside of him. The source of Kael’s rage was likely another.

 

“You are my subject of study. I chose you because of your ability to counter even  _ my _ magic. Your deaths make you…”  _ Closer to the rabble _ . That didn’t sound quite right to Kael. He tilted his head a fraction. “... less interesting.”

Yes, that was about right.

Then there was the matter of Lion and Abbadon. Not only intruding on his part of the battlefield, but also interrupting what had clearly been Nortrom’s attempt to witness Kael. These interruptions were no longer ignorable.

The tower gathered the parts of armor Kael had uncaringly thrown away. What did  _ he _ care for what history it might possess? It was nothing that had passed under his hand, so it was trifling at best. He would take measurements for Nortrom from it, and then redesign something far more suitable to keeping him alive with his personal brand of enchantments. Anything  _ Kael _ thought worthy of studying should be something titanic in whatever field it chose to engage in - Nortrom and his battles was no exception.

Magic began to fix his appearance, The blood and filth vanished.

 

So if he were a book, he would receive a different spine and clear page numeration. That stung, if only because Nortrom had, foolishly, hoped to at least be elevated into being Kael’s companion. They shared their bodies, their pleasure, and Nortrom had once or twice been dangerously close to a love confession, retracted only at the last second.

To think Kael simply saw him as a belonging...it didn’t brighten his outlook. At least in making progress of what he meant to the Invoker. 

“My deaths do not diminish my talents, if that is what you’re implying,” Nortrom watched his old armor escape towards his room, and he knew he’d find it there clean and pristine, even if he wouldn’t wear it anymore.

“But you are right about the armor; it was not made for this onslaught. It was simply the garb of the prophesied battlemage.”

 

“Prophecies,” Kael snorted. He’d heard a thousand prophecies about the end days, the world eater, the one who would destroy time, and so on and so on. Half the heroes of either side had equally presumptuous names backed by another slew of prophecies made by small-time prophets. They even had a  _ Death Prophet _ , for the sake of the cosmos! “Mages like you were meant to be carved in  _ my _ image,” he said over his shoulder, “by a horde of powerless halfwits who didn’t have the ability to match me, so they thought to develop someone who  _ could _ . Considering I have  _ yet _ to hear of another legendary mage from Aeol Drias, I can surmise that only  _ you _ managed to do something with yourself. And you have another hundred years to go before you can challenge  _ me _ .”

His battle robes came off. Kael crossed his arms as he leaned against his desk. “Whatever I make for you, it will outshine this armor.”

 

Nortrom didn’t like this flippant dismissal of whatever he was saying. Kael had never seemed so bothered by his high mortality in battles before, today should be no different. He strode forward and grasped the Invoker by the shoulders.

“Kael.” His voice was level, but warning flashed in his deeply blue eyes. There was a limit to what he would do as Kael’s subject of study.  Only so much he was willing to indulge in terms of belittlement. Yes, his armor was due for an upgrade, but...

“I have died in plenty of battles. Why was today any different?”

 

Kael frowned when Nortrom held his shoulders. They’d done this before, but in far different, pleasanter circumstances. He didn’t like the look in his eyes, either.

“I watched you die today,” Kael said, lips thin. Why was Nortrom being so resistant today? He was usually so pliant to whatever Kael made of him; what had changed that? Surely he knew that his armor  _ was _ really not as good as anything Kael could produce, right? “You were in mid lane, as I was, when Lion and Abbadon killed you. Did you not see me?”

 

“Of course I saw you. It’s. I...” he didn’t remember the last time he’d died in front of Kael, but he had died at his hands. Incinerated, frozen, ripped apart by forge spirits, flattened under a meteor. All of those were far more cruel than bleeding out slowly after being inattentive.

“My armor wasn’t at fault for my death, Kael.”

Kael was. Or rather, the thought of him distracting Nortrom from the futile daily battle for the ancients. Kael consumed his mind, the way he stole from others.

“It was my own short-sightedness. I should not have wanted to see you, in battle.”

 

“Nothing should interrupt that,” Kael told him pithily. “ _ They _ were not meant to be there anyway. Every one of my worthless allies are aware that they would only get in my way when I am called upon, and that mid lane belongs to only me. Their interference could not be tolerated.”

If Nortrom thought he could convince Kael to not reforge him an entirely new armor and weapon set, he was dead wrong. Kael was as stubborn as he was old, and perfectly willing to convince Nortrom to see it in his way. “If there is anyone who is allowed to kill you when I am present, then it is I. That counts even moreso when you are on the mid lane when I am.”

Not that he would have then. Maybe drag Nortrom away to see how much he’d keep his word, but not kill him unlike all the other times he’d rubbed his superiority as a mage in his face.

 

Nortrom’s eyebrow doubted Kael’s sincerity. Sometimes, he wondered if Kael held another personality beneath everything he spread like a thick fog around himself. Something, someone smaller, who needed, maybe, a little admiration and approval. Someone who wouldn’t be hurt anymore by anything. But that was wild speculation and Nortrom didn’t have any way of cutting into that subject without risking Kael pushing him away entirely.

So he wouldn’t.

“Don’t think me ungrateful. I am not. I would gladly wear armor made by you to battle. I just wanted to assure you that my death was not...it was an accident. It won’t happen again. I would not have you think less of me.” His hands rubbed out soothing little circles on those shoulders.

 

That was the answer Kael was looking for. He relaxed slightly, and fixed Nortrom with an indulgent smile. His hands came to rest over Nortrom’s and Kael gave them a single, pleased squeeze.

“Of course not. Now go wash, you’re positively filthy.” In his mind’s eye, Kael was already envisioning the armor set he’d design for Nortrom. Something far more aesthetically pleasing than what he had, certainly, with a certain  _ gravitas _ to it. It would have to look majestic as well, and exude beauty and power at once. Yes, Kael knew  _ exactly _ what he wanted to make.

He patted Nortrom’s hand once more. “Go.”

 

Happy to have resolved the situation, at least for now, Nortrom left Kael to his own devices and followed his instruction. He really was filthy, bloody and probably smelled the part. The little confrontation however, lingered in his mind and would continue to.

It meant something.

Kael caring for his safety was more than mere objective possession. Even if Kael would never see it in such a way. Nortrom had begun to understand that he could never wait for an explanation or a confession. Kael didn’t think like that. He had to be understood almost like a distant, mythical creature. One that acted in mysterious ways and could only be appeased, never tamed.

Nortrom was willing to try, and try, and stay even if Kael grew tired of him. He knew what he wanted, he knew what his heart had grown soft for.

 

Ignorant to the revelations going on elsewhere, Kael began to sketch out his ideas for the armor set. He’d examined that Aeol Drias set enough to have a basic idea of what enchantments and techniques had gone into its make. Kael hadn’t designed an actual armor set in a long time, but he remembered enough of the craft to feel confident about his chances. He still had some reference tomes around the tower anyway, so he could look into those if his memory turned out to be incomplete.

Something grand. Something beautiful. Something that needed to match its maker in its sheer awesome glory.

Slowly, the image of the armor began to take form.

Kael was still designing it by the time Nortrom finished his bath. The armor and weapons he’d thrown on the ground before were now propped up next to his desk, occasionally changing angles so Kael could get a better look. A long list of enchantments had been written up next to him and the journals he’d been collecting on Nortrom were open to the section about how his magic interacted with certain enchantments.

It would not take him too long to make. The enchantments would need time, but Kael was certain he could accomplish the entire thing within a month or two of intensive work. 

 

Nortrom let it be. Kael had set his stubborn mind to this goal and he would not be dissuaded. It was its own brand of intelligent stupidity to reject his own opinion. Or maybe it was just more arrogance, dismissing anything Nortrom had to say, simply because it was Nortrom who said it. It irked him to know that he could share a home and bed with Kael, but his words still weighed as little as anyone else’s.

It was...frustrating. The Invoker was frustrating. There was a level of understanding that Nortrom had accepted as true, now being overturned and ignored. They were not companions, and he was little more than a new book, though with some added benefits. Kael had been angered by his death, but the why continued to elude Nortrom.

Concern? Possession? He wouldn’t know, and that was the frustrating part.

Nortrom threw himself into studying history. Most books around the tower were spelltomes, and histories of magic. He read some of those too, but he craved the ones depicting the long lifetime of Kael the most.

 

Over the years, Kael had many books written about him. They ranged from speculation to biographies - some with actual merit, most filled with conjectural trash - and it become a hobby of his to collect them. He was fondest of the ones that depicted his might accurately (and may have burned a few collections that defamed his reputation). The tower had them in the deepest recesses of its stores normally but they were occasionally visited when Kael had a new book to add or wanted to stroke his ego again. They were stored where he also kept his cursed books - a factoid that might amuse the uninvolved observer.

Nortrom’s search couldn’t be more obvious. If Kael had been present, he would’ve known exactly what he was doing. However, he was distracted several levels below and that opened up a few  _ opportunities _ .

The tower, by nature, was meant to serve those who stayed within it. In opening up his wards and providing Nortrom with his own room, Kael made Nortrom more than just a guest. He was now a resident of the tower and it wanted to serve  _ him _ too. The same magic that let it pick up on the unconscious needs of its residents gave it the semi-sentience that let it serve those very needs. And like all old, powerful magical artifacts, it’d gained something resembling a personality.

A bookshelf slid open. Behind it was another shelf that also slid out into a small, hidden alcove. Deeper into it were the restricted books where Kael kept the tomes that needed magical protection - for both their sakes and other people’s. A few shelves rattled angrily as they sensed the disturbance, but the enchanted chains around them glowed and held. The tower pointedly pushed a shelf in front of Nortrom to keep him from walking away, and pushed him to the opening instead. A carpet rolled out with equally pointed significance, trying to guide him deeper into the hidden shelves. A book jut out from a shelf and its spine dug in between his shoulders, impatiently trying to make him move before Kael glanced up to see what mischief was happening overhead.

 

Nortrom wasn’t one to look a gift hidden shelf in the mouth. The tower had its own way of being helpful, and he had yet to be disappointed by its eager approach. These books...they were much more specialised in what he sought. Kael’s life, documented by different people throughout the ages. He doubted that they’d be the most accurate, but these books would give him at least a little more ground to understand the mage he was falling in love with. This immortal creature of grace and mystery.

Nortrom hoarded the books in his room, a place Kael never bothered to set foot in. Not as lavish as that of his esteemed host, it was still a beautiful accommodation and now strewn with stacks of books liberated from their resting places in the tower’s spiral library.

And Nortrom began to devour them. Kael’s life...his achievements, it was a mixed patchwork of the bizarre, the impressive and the strange. Sometimes, he stayed for years in a place, being as scholarly as he could, sometimes he barely stayed a day. Stories began to take shape in his head, each of them playing Kael’s life out in a different light. His quest for spells unknown and unmastered, his battles with challengers and monsters...

It felt surreal, sitting in the tower that mage called home, reading of his adventures so long ago the thought of Nortrom had not even existed.

 

As soon as Nortrom took his books away, smuggled away like precious contraband, the shelves closed up and the hidden alcove was once more concealed. Kael pored over his newest project, only taking a pause when mortal needs affected his immortal self, but thoughts of Nortrom was far away even though this very armor he was working on was for the elf.

The books he’d hoarded over the years were ancient. Very ancient. Some of them even dated back to when he wasn’t yet immortal and just a bright, incredibly talented sorcerer traveling the world. Stories about him fighting dragons and fallen sorcerers were common, as were the gentler tales of his residence in ancient centers of knowledge from a millennia past. They were written on a variety of materials - pulped up plant matter, calf hide, even the skin of sentient beings - and written in tongues both recent and old. The central theme of every book, however, was the intransient nature of Kael himself.

The Wanderer, one book had coined him. He-Who-Devours-Knowledge said another, half-finished manuscript. Tales of how he suddenly appeared someplace in a grand and beautiful tower were common, as were tales of how he suddenly left, tower gone, and did not reappear until many years later in some new location of interest, tower and all. A few missive were scattered in between the pages of the books, written to Kael from ancient cities inviting him in. More letters - either insistently inviting him over and over, or asking why he left - were strewn about the brittle parchment. Kael had never bothered to reply to them, and only collected the letters that went on length about his majesty.

There was even a letter from Aeol Drias. It was old but still legible. It eagerly described the prophecy and their ongoing project, and asked for his opinion. Scrawled over it was a list and arcane formulas - Kael had needed scrap paper at the time, and the letter had been handy nearby.

 

Nortrom forgot the time of day or night, too absorbed by what he’d been given to discover. It read like any ancient tales, distant and far away, but these stories were all about Kael, who was very real, and not very distant. He turned the letter from the Aeol Drias order over in his hands. This was written before his parents were bred...by the first generation. His very existence was linked deeply with Kael, created in his image, inspired by his magic and prowess. It was surreal to think he’d gotten as far as having emotions for this immortal who had watched all of time.

How could Kael still muster interest in the world? How could he find anything fascinating at all?

A sense of humility washed over him. Out of everything in the world, Kael had decided to find him worthy of study.  Just Nortrom, a failure made successful, a mage with no magic. 

He put the book aside, still toying with the letter. If Kael had answered it, declined the idea or made it sound terrible, Nortrom would never have been born into the misery of his early childhood.

It was headache-inducing to think about the passage of time and Kael’s immobility within it. It both fascinated and awed him, and something different grew into the bubble over his heart that had been filled with greedy, greedy love for the immortal mage; sorrow. For the loneliness Kael had become the embodiment of. The Wanderer indeed; solitary, isolated, peerless and incomparable.

Kael’s entire existence sounded glorious and terrible simultaneously. Nortrom suppressed the urge to seek his company, to make petty reassurances that he would remain for as long as possible. They would not be soothing ideas, would they? He was a blink in Kael’s life, a thin bookmark on a page in a book to be forgotten.

 

Books and old missives were not the only thing Kael kept about his personal life. Another folder came out, with thin papery journals bound with leather inside. The make and design of it was near identical to the journals Kael had out right now. He’d never bothered changing his method of information preservation once he’d perfected it.

_ Indra _ was the name written on the folder. Kael’s thin, spidery handwriting described the latest anomaly he found and his intent on studying it. The magic, he wrote, was something related to breaking down magic itself. The human mage that had become his latest subject of study was hurriedly sketched down, showing an average faced man with green eyes and black hair, with all his measurements written down in the right hand bottom corner. Little notations decorated the margins of the sketch, pointing at various features and speculating if his magic was related to them.

There were seven journals in total, all related to Indra and the various tests conducted on him. More notes about their journeys to faraway lands to fight exotic creatures followed, with meticulous note-taking on what Indra had done and the theories that followed. They’d traveled all over the world and it showed. Indra’s own notes also appeared on the journals, though they were far less impersonal and addressed Kael with a fondness that could be felt even through the text.

_ You spend too long writing. Leave it for a bit. _

_ If you’ve reached this page already, that means you need to eat and sleep. _

_ You should see the sun more often. _

The most recent pile was a small stack of letters. It was from the long-dead Indra himself who’d apparently left the tower after Kael deemed him no longer interesting. They were friendly at first, as if written to an old friend. The reply that Kael wrote ignored all of that, however. Questions about how his age affected his magic, if it had changed, what he was doing, if he was still practicing came. The tone of the letters grew colder and Indra’s more accusing, demanding answers for why Kael never came back to him.

Kael’s reply was short, irritated.

_ Unless you have further information for me, stop the letters. _

After that, all was left was a small notice about Indra’s death and his will stating his desire to have the last letters given to Kael. Another old letter was still inside among the opened ones. This one was unopened, untouched. Kael hadn’t cared enough to open it once he realized it held no data for him to study.

 

Nortrom had to be careful with everything. The age of some of the paper allowed only the gentlest of touches, which halted his burning need to turn pages and read everything he could find. Especially regarding this ‘Indra’.

He must have been in Nortrom’s position, years and years ago, having captured the Invoker’s attention. Had he lived in this very room too? An unpleasant sense of jealousy ran down Nortrom’s spine; how many subjects had lived with Kael, squandering the time they had with him? How many of them had developed feelings as Nortrom did, only to become dust in the desert of time, their only memory preserved in these journals? 

How many of them had been lovers and dismissed once the studies were complete? Was that his fate also? Would there come a time when Kael decided he knew all about silencing, and no longer required Nortrom’s presence at his side? Did Kael remember any of them?

The words describing Indra’s talents began to blur together as Nortrom pictured his own old age, writing letters to Kael, asking why despite knowing what he was to the Invoker. He could swear up and down the tower that it wouldn’t happen to him, that he would be different, but how could he be sure of that? Kael didn’t seem to keep mementos of anything or anyone that was not a spell. 

Even now, one of the  letters remained unopened, and the journal made it clear Indra was a companion for a long stretch of time. 

Nortrom knew he shouldn’t, this was a personal letter, but the man who had written it was long dead, and Kael had not bothered to read his last words. Nortrom would do him the honor. The seal nearly crumbled apart in his fingers as he unfolded the paper.


	11. Chapter 11

_ Dear Kael, Arsenal Magus, the greatest and grandest of all mages, he who has vanquished armies, collector of knowledge, and the one who ruined me, _

_ You plucked me up like a flower from the garden of my youth. I remember the very first time I saw you passing through my little village. You looked glorious. Everyone stopped to watch you and we thought that would be all. We would watch, and you would go like a memory of some past arcane king from history. But you did not. You turned, and you looked at me, and then you said something I could never forget. _

_ You asked me who I was. I could barely answer you. You stopped and you came to me, right there, and you said that you felt something inside of me. Something great. Just like that, you took me away from my village and told me that you would study me, because I was special and wonderful and deserved a place by your side. That is still the most precious memory I have. _

_ It was magical, and I was too young to understand how foolish I was. I let you come in like the morning light and whisk me away from my home on your golden chariot to live with you. I thought we became friends. I thought that you knew me better than anyone else in the world, and that you would keep me by your side forever. I did not think you would make me immortal as you made yourself, but I thought you would at least give me the honor of dying by your side. _

_ I did not think you would be so callous as to leave me in a city I did not know after twenty years of being together. You gave me a new home and a future, but you robbed me of everything I really wanted. Would it have been too much to let me stay by your side, and to warm myself in your light? I never wanted anything else but to see the magic you showed me. You said my magic would revolutionize everything, but you never let me see the results of it. _

_ I see the truth of you now. You are just a beautiful mirage. You only ever saw me for what you could study, for what you could take. You never cared for me, Indra, as you cared for the magic I had. All those years of friendship and peace meant nothing to you – you forgot it all, just like you forgot your childhood and the people who came before me -  to make room for your spells. I begged you to come back. I begged you to let me stay in my little room in your tower but you never came back for me. You left me behind to rot with people who could never show me what you did. You left me behind in a world without magic, with people who can’t show me the stars or travel across oceans like you have. _

_ I loved you, but you never cared at all. I would have given you everything, but you only took the parts you wanted before leaving me. All your immortality and knowledge has made you cold and hard. I pray now, as I wait to die, that no one else will meet the same fate that I have. I pray that no one will learn to love a star like you, and then realize that you would never deign to come down from the heavens for them. Please, Kael. Find it in yourself to be kind. Find it in yourself to be merciful enough to never let anyone else love you, because you bring ruin to anyone who does. _

_ I will leave this all to you when I pass. My grave lies in Numella, the same city you left me in. If the gods are kind, you will at least visit me there as you have not in life. I still love you, even now, and my spirit will rest a little easier if you would let your presence bless my final resting place. _

 

Nortrom read it once, twice, before folding the letter back inside of the page it had rested in for numerous years. Kael had never bothered to read it, and he doubted it would make a difference to the mage if he did now. Did he remember Indra? Probably not. Who knew how many years ago this was?

Indra’s words lingered heavily on his mind. The hurt could only have come from the heart, and Indra’s had been deep. Yet so devoid of sympathy for the immortal he claimed to love, it baffled Nortrom. 

Yes, he knew his fate might take on a remarkably similar journey. Kael losing interest and leaving him be was a very real possibility. But he could not blame Kael for what that made him feel. He knew the Invoker was ancient and immortal. He knew the Invoker had not given him more than a few gracious favours. It was his heart that ran into the situation unprepared and sickly in love with the mage. How could Indra say Kael stole his youth and future, when he’d been the one to come along, naive and weak as a pup stepping out into the sun for the first time.

Anger mixed with peculiar sympathy, but not for Indra’s broken life and abandonment. Even if Kael left him behind one day, Nortrom would not blame him for taking years away. He’d chosen this. He lingered instead of leaving. 

He wanted to rip and crumple the letter, but instead he closed the book and pushed it aside, to the stack of journals piling on his night table. 

It made slow sense to him, that Kael would not remember the people he knew forever. It would be a burden, terrible memories of blame and lack of understanding...

Maybe the Invoker’s isolation and arrogance was not so much for his vanity, but for his protection.

 

On the other side of the door, Kael was bent over his desk as he carefully stretched out the prototype pieces of the armor. He doubted he would be able to finish the entire set before Nortrom was called up again, but he could at least finish the armor, then the weapons after. The moldable glass he had under his hands easily warped and shaped under his fingers. The current piece he had - the breastplate - was taken off the measurements of the previous one, but Kael wanted it to be even better. Closer fitted. Lighter.  _ Better _ .

“Nortrom,” he said, trusting the tower to pass his voice onto wherever the elf had gone to, “Come here. I need your presence for this piece.”

The moldable glass shimmered. How long did he have this thing, anyway? The last time he’d worked with it was… a century prior? It was of his own design, created after he spent two years following around crystal golems to watch how they used their magic to shape the earth. That must’ve been nearly two thousand years ago.  _ Had _ it been that long?

 

The depressing mood he’d fallen into after reading Indra’s letters left Nortrom thoughtful to say the least as he emerged from his room. He saw pieces of armor swirl around the desk, saw the vague silhouette of his old, now no longer accepted equipment. Kael was true to his word, and working diligently on protecting his subject of study. It made Nortrom’s pace quicker, and his heart warmer as he approached the mage. 

There was much to say, but none of it fit into this moment. Kael would know what books Nortrom was reading. He probably wouldn’t comment on anything, however, because he would not care.

“Glass?” was the first word out of his mouth. Nortrom scolded himself silently for sounding so thoroughly unimpressed, but he had a certain idea when it came to armor, and it generally didn’t include glass.

 

“It will serve as the prototype for the armor,” Kael said as he held up the breastplate. It  _ looked _ like it matched, but he needed to fit it on to be sure. Maybe he should create a mannequin of Nortrom sometime, just so he could have an easy reference of his proportions for any later projects. “Any armor  _ I _ make must be as beautiful as it is powerful. Now strip so I can fit it on you.”

The last armor set he’d made must’ve been… maybe six hundred years ago? For a king who’d exchanged it for something else. The kingdom itself was long gone but the armor - where was it now? Had it been destroyed? Preserved? Kael hadn’t been nearly as precise with it as he was with this one, mostly because the king had been ugly and he hadn’t wanted to spent any more time around him than needed.

_ This _ one, though… it would be his best work yet. And not just because it was for Nortrom. It would be unassailable, elegant, and…

“Perfection,” Kael said as he looked at the rudimentary design. He could see it all now. It would fit on Nortrom wonderfully and  _ he _ would carry the mark of Kael’s absolute skill in all things, even magical smithing. “ _ This _ armor will be known in legends, Nortrom. You call it glass, but this will be  _ history _ .”

 

Nortrom had obediently stripped himself of the few robes he wore for comfort, standing before Kael as the pieces of armor fitted themselves onto his body. He wasn’t intending to wear it with nothing underneath, but he was pretty sure he didn‘t have to point that out to Kael as he stood before the desk in his breeches.

“I have to enchant this too, Kael,” he mentioned gently. The pieces did look beautiful. Elven in design but with a tenacity for detail that had been gone for generations from their people. No matter how delicate the material, it would be tougher than steel thrice its thickness.

 

“Hm? Yes, yes,” Kael, too absorbed in his work, waved off Nortrom’s words. He would spend all his time on this piece. It would be  _ perfect _ . An enchantment to keep it strong, to make it withstand all kinds of powers, even something to let Nortrom move quicker and lighter on his feet. He had no name for it yet, but that would come once the armor itself takes on his magic.

He smoothed down the first piece that went around Nortrom’s chest. He could see his body under the clear glass. As Kael’s fingers passed over the segments, they tightened and loosened, rippling like scales as they moved to accommodate their wearer better.

He knew now. This would be a masterpiece. And Nortrom, dear loyal Nortrom, would carry it into battle for him. And even after Nortrom passed, this armor would endure. It would be a testament to Kael, and a… a…

… a memory of Nortrom.

His fitting slowed down as Kael frowned. Of course his work would endure. And yes, it would carry a mark of the first one to don it. That was only natural. How did it matter that his fit of pique at Nortrom daring to die at someone else’s hands meant that he would go this far to create something he hadn’t done for over half a thousand years? Kael didn’t  _ need _ a reason to assert his mastery. He  _ was _ , so he  _ would _ .

The fitting continued. Pauldrons to protect his shoulders. A gorget for his neck. Thin, beautiful, perfect. A masterpiece for his personal little wonder.

“This armor will outlive you,” Kael said abruptly. “You realize that, do you not?”

 

The fitting had continued with Nortrom holding still, allowing Kael to move the pieces, adjust here and there, marvel at his own ingenious design. He’d indulged it with his gaze glued to the mage. After what he’d studied and read, the letters, the journals, Indra’s words, he had to think differently of what Kael was doing. That this right here was already more than he’d given to his previous subjects, who lived on only in books and pages. Nortrom would at least be a set of armor.

“So will a lot of things.”

He decided that throwing some kind of emotional fit was the worst thing he could do. Kael must be aware of his own immortality. He must have lived among hundreds of accusers who would demand of him to take note of their mortality and do something about it.

He would not join those ranks.

“You speak as if I am hundreds of years old. I’ll put mileage on this masterpiece yet, Kael. I’m barely seventy years old.”

Which, for an elf, was tragically young to be looking as scarred and lined as Nortrom did.

 

“I would not make this for you if I did not think you would do it proud.”

That  _ was _ true. Nortrom had a whole legacy to build, Kael could feel. He had memories to forge, enemies to conquer. It would all be done in this armor, which would the greatest thing Nortrom would ever have. It would protect him from all things, until his own internal weakness took him.

And then the armor would pass. Maybe to his enemy. Maybe to any children he might have. Kael would be long gone by then, though he might return just to admire his beautiful work.

And of course, it would look  _ wrong _ on anyone else. He was fitting it to Nortrom, to his exact measurements. No one like him would ever come again, so the armor would only ever be able to fit  _ him _ . Perhaps another mage might be able to break it down enough for the magic to serve another, though Kael doubted it. This armor, this  _ masterpiece _ , would only be suited to one person.

The glassworking stopped again as Kael stood back to examine what he’d done so far. It was beautiful already, half-finished and sloppy as it still was. It would be a shame to see this only used once. Or not. Kael only intended this to be used for Nortrom. It would only ever… only ever carry the memory of Nortrom within it.

And that was fine.

It did not bother him to think that it would live longer than the elf it was meant to protect. No, really. It didn’t.

He would forget Nortrom eventually, anyway. All that would be left of him would the journals and this masterpiece, used only once, for only one.

“The gods will be jealous of you,” Kael murmured, touching the breastplate, “they will die in envy and desire for this, but they will never have it. I only mean for you to have this. It would suit no other.”

And that was fine.

... _ really _ .

 

Nortrom found Kael’s words peculiar. They brought something to mind, and a lump to his throat. This armor would outlive him. Why did Kael point it out? Did he wish for gratitude from Nortrom, or was this something else entirely?

There was heaviness in Kael's voice and gaze and the Silencer's mind began to race. Was it regret Kael was feeling? Or did the passage of time linger in between all of his brilliant thoughts, somewhere beneath where Kael the person was buried too. Was it the loneliness that would come again once Nortrom was gone, or something else?

Nortrom wished he could know, wished he could read what happened before Kael's inner eye. 

This armor meant something more, and he would be a fool to not notice it.

"I will treasure it for all of my life, Kael. You can be assured your gift will not be taken for granted," he saw fit to cover Kael's hand with his own, cold skin flush against warm digits.

"Thank you."

 

A sardonic smile twisted across his mouth. “I expect such glory to be treasured,” he said.  _ Many have promised the same before you were even a twinkle in your mother’s eye. What does all your life measure up to but a single grain of sand? _

But it would be discourteous of him to hold Nortorm’s mortality against him. Few could ever match Kael - none have ever discovered immortality as he had. To wither and die was the only certainty the world held for Kael. All promises and vows were dust before that.

Nortrom would be forgotten within two centuries - the barest sliver of time to Kael. His touch would be stardust, his face would be a pale smear across Kael’s thoughts, and all his name would hold would be this armor, cold and beautiful and wondrous. Even his warmth would be washed away.

“But you will die, as all you mortals do.” And then safeguarding this armor would fall upon Kael’s shoulders. To expect anything else of Nortrom was to expect a horse to walk on two legs, or for the sun to rise from the west; impossible.

 

Kael had never sounded terribly affected by anything and that fact had not changed now, but Nortrom found the gloom in the air to be unusual and unpleasant. So instead of merely accepting the inevitable doom, he leaned forward to press a kiss to the Invoker’s lips.

“Not yet.”

Not for a long while yet. And he knew exactly where he wanted to spend all those years he had left, because Kael was the exceptional wonder to have crossed his path, whether he studied him or not. Silencer would not join the ranks of those who mourned their youth and never forgave Kael’s immortal nature. What was the sense in it? As long as he was here, he could keep the solitude at bay. He could hold Kael when he was permitted to, at night, in the mornings, and he could revel in the fact that he could be his companion. To Nortrom, they had half an eternity, provided Kael wouldn’t grow bored of him.

 

What a funny thing to say. Kael found himself chuckling against the kiss, though his amusement was more of the knowing kind. It was his private little joke, this. The real magic of mortality was to not ever feel time like Kael did - they lived their lives like they had forever to go, even into death. For someone untouched by time, Kael knew its sorrows like an old friend. He was beyond it, and he could only ever look down at the bright little lights around his feet and chuckle at their dear, short-lived natures. They flared bright and high, too fast to grasp that they were dying with each breathe, with each blink.

If Kael pressed his hands close to Nortrom, he knew he would feel that very death encroaching on him. His heartbeat drove him closer to the undertaker. His body was being taken by time at this very minute, and dear Nortrom still didn’t understand that. His kisses were mortal, and Kael tasted the death that waited for him.

His slowly fading memories stopped after a certain point in time. Kael had been just an elf once - he knew this. But those memories were skeletons and he couldn’t recall what it felt to be merely Kael, the elf. Those memories were not important. The Invoker, the Arsenal Magus, took precedent. The star at the world’s brow, the rose that presided over weeds -  _ that _ was who he was now. He’d forgotten the spell for immortality because he was the greatest and only he would -  _ could _ \- endure. No one else could be like him. How many had begged anyway, not understanding their own lack of importance? Kings, emperors, scholars, warriors… he met them all, begging for his power, for his immortality. But Kael had been generous, and forgiven them for their lack of understanding. They were only mortal after all. 

“Not yet,” he agreed, and accepted the kiss without further comment.  _ But soon _ , he thought.  _ Always too soon. _

 


	12. Chapter 12

The armor was splendid. Nortrom hadn’t always been a big fan of pauldrons and gauntlets, but the new, light set that Kael had finished after months of work was a masterpiece. Nortrom could run, dodge, jump with grace...it afforded him many escapes that would otherwise have been impossible.

And he made sure to pay the Invoker back in the kindest fashion he knew. From long baths and massages to hours spent entirely dedicated to worshipping every inch of Kael’s body, Nortrom employed his entire experience for the sole purpose of pampering his gracious host. Years could have passed, and Nortrom would not have taken notice. Each day was unique and yet the same. If they were called, they went to war. If they were not, they studied, they tried spells on Nortrom, or some days they didn’t see each other at all.

But Kael was there, and so was Nortrom. A silent little satellite in orbit of this blazing sun. He had dreams, ambitions, but they were beginning to be eclipsed by the severity of his emotions towards the immortal mage. He didn’t want to travel the lands and conquer mages anymore. He didn’t want to see the world and prove himself, didn’t want to earn a title beyond what he had. All of it would demand he leave Kael’s home, Kael’s presence, and Nortrom could no longer find strength to tear himself away.

 

Kael finished the armor, then he went to work on the new weapons. A new shield, a new glaive. Something better. His gloomy thoughts left when he turned to Nortrom and could lose himself in his body. Nortrom was a good subject, and an even better lover. Turning on him for Dire’s sake was growing increasingly tiresome. What did Kael care for  _ them _ anyway? He’d found his new subject already. Jumping from one side to another was as easy as walking into the Radiant camp and announcing that he would no longer associate with Dire. Not unless they grew more interesting, anyway.

The Ancients were familiar with him, a vague, magical way. They both hated him, but they hated each other more, so Invoker’s switch was accepted. After the Radiant’s defenses opened up for him, all the protestations of the heroes barely mattered.

“We fight on the same side,” Kael said when he returned from battle that day having effectively turned on Dire at the last moment. Today wasn’t Nortrom’s turn, so he wouldn’t know.

“It’s been awhile since I called myself of Radiant.”

 

Days of Kael attending battle were a lazy affair for Nortrom. The tower had provided him with a sunchair for the pavilion at the back, and he spent most of his hours lazing in it, reading what he could of the many historical volumes. These weren’t all about Kael, but Nortrom liked studying the evolution of magic in the hands of mages. From simple fire spells to world-shattering incantations, magic had shaped the future and the present already, centuries ago.

Kael’s return marked a break in his lecture though, since his immortal lover had certain expectations to be met. Mind you, so did Nortrom. The news Kael casually dispensed however, threw him for a loop. He hadn’t heard of anyone simply switching allegiances in the war of the ancients.

“You...changed sides?”

He got out of his deckchair, straightening so he could be at eye-level with his immortal beloved.

“Just like that?”

Why?

Nortrom always had been under the impression that the Radiant had accumulated too many persons that Kael could not stand. The Anti-Mage, the Silencer, the Omniknight, Rubick...Oh, well alright he’d cancel himself out of that list, considering their living arrangement.

 

“The Ancients are well aware that if I change sides, it is solely their fault for being too boring to be fought for. I am the Invoker - who is going to stop  _ me _ ? I have done this before.” Kael buffed his nails across his chest and looked at his hand - lovely and pristine as always - before beginning to strip down. The heavy robes were removed and he went to lean against Nortrom, pushing him back down so Kael could perch on his lap like he was a throne.

He crossed his legs with a sigh as his head settled on Nortrom’s shoulder. “Dire has begun to irritate me more and more. They keep demanding things they do not deserve - clearly, they have forgotten what a blessing it is to have me fight on the same side as they. So I will turn my cloak and declare for Radiant. The fact that you are there is reason enough - what if I had to fight you? I would damage the very armor I made for you, and that is _ quite _ unacceptable.”

He wanted to see those very tools used - not against him, but against deserving fools. He would make sure it happened even if he had to fend off every other person on his own.

“On the days we are both called together, I expect you to be on mid lane.” He knew Nortrom liked to partner up with the Anti-Mage, which was a shame on all fronts. Well,  _ not anymore _ . The best got the best, and the dregs could deal with what scraps they were allowed.

 

Nortrom felt his throat go dry as Kael continued speaking, his cool, pleasant weight a welcome addition to his body. Nortrom’s arms closed around the slender shoulders on reflex as he struggled to follow Kael’s full meaning. Share his lane? Keep by his side? Kael on the Radiant, simply for him?

His heart caught up faster than his mouth did and beat out a frantic rhythm. Surely it was loud enough to deafen Kael at this range, but the mage seemed to take no notice. Good.

“Fortunate news for the Radiant, then. I am most glad not to have to face you anymore, Kael. You know I have become very ineffective against you.”

That did eat at his pride, but what did pride matter before love? 

 

“You refuse to attack me,” Kael said, a touch smug. He’d taken full advantage of this fact to hunt down Anti-Mage when he appeared, then snag Nortrom away for a sneaky kiss or two in the jungle before blazing down the lane again. It made the tedious battles a little more bearable. Since his furious onslaught on Lion and Abbadon, mid lane was always clear for Invoker to take it, giving him more chances to catch Nortrom. Nortrom seemed to take the battles more seriously than Kael did, but he could be convinced away for a few moments.

That didn’t mean Kael stopped fighting Nortrom, of course. He still warned him away from interference and didn’t hesitate to send a few tornadoes his way if Nortrom seemed to be getting braver with his chances. Kael  _ did _ have a reputation to keep, after all.

Leaning up, Kael pressed a cool kiss to Nortrom’s neck. “I predict our next shared battle to be two weeks from now. You will carry the armor and weapons I crafted, of course. I look forward to seeing it in action properly.”

 

"It will be a sight worth seeing, you and I on the same side of a battle." Nortrom tried not to sound affected by the small sign of affection, but his heart was in his throat, furiously demanding he acknowledge the fact that Kael was cuddled to his body, sweet as a tamed fox. Nortrom tried not to smile too broadly, but what could he do about the softening of his gaze? Nothing at all.

"The Dire will lose every battle from now on, if it involves you."

That was an overstatement. Even Kael's might could be overcome, but Nortrom was not in the business of trying to bring reality into play. He wanted to please and admire his lover and that was precisely what he was excelling at these days.

 

“Your faith is sound.” They’d never fought together before.  _ Against _ each other, yes, and experimented with their magic, but never in a way meant to work synergistically. Kael wondered what it might be like to fight alongside someone he could actually stand - even share with. If Nortrom was half as good at teamwork on the field as he was in the bedroom, then it would be a pleasing experience.

“Have you been practicing with the new set?” Its weight and style was a little different from his old set. Nortrom would have to familiarize himself with it soon if Kael was going to watch him fight with it. “Let me see.”

 

“As a matter of fact,” Nortrom settled Kael into the warmed chair he would now abandon, if only to strip off the robe and reach for the set, brandishing it with practiced ease. He’d been wearing armor most of his life and the speed at which he could put it on was a matter of saving his own life in certain situations.

“I’ve made some discoveries.” 

Mainly about the angle and reach of his glaive, which travelled considerably further and with an impact that felled one of the trees in the forest. Nortrom continued, not desperate to impress, but to share with his lover and the maker of this fine set. It would serve him well for years to come.

“I’ve never owned something finer.”

 

“Of course not.” Kael leaned back to appreciate the view. Now that they’d affirmed their relationship, he could watch him as much as he pleased, as obviously as he pleased. His voyeurism had stopped being hidden the day he went and claimed Nortrom’s body to be his. It was good, since now he could watch all the things Nortrom was capable of in person.

As Nortrom settled into the familiar pattern of catching and throwing, hauling around the weapons  Kael had measured and crafted so painstakingly for him, he felt a pleasant heat begin inside him. It was still well in the day but Kael had all the time in the world. Watching Nortrom would only keep the fire going, brighter and brighter, until it was time for him to take care of what he’d started in the first place.

A drink drifted out of the tower and down to Kael’s hands. Laid out under the shade of pavilion, he got comfortable for a long session of appreciating the physical aspects of his lover.

 

They could live like this for an eternity. Nortrom’s mind circled around that thought as he felt Kael’s eyes on him. It spurred him on to a greater display, more agile movements, really stretching the limits of his armor and body just for the sake of perhaps impressing the Invoker. He wondered when exactly his mind had accepted this inevitable attraction and love that had shattered convictions he’d been so deeply entrenched behind. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ranted about foul mages or malpractice of magic. He couldn’t remember the last time he had looked Magina in the eye either, but that was a different path of musings.

He did not bore Kael yet. And that was the most important marker of their arrangement. He wouldn’t call it a relationship openly, though his heart had claimed that too.

 

-x-

 

The day of the battle came. Their temporary stasis together, in their little bubble of contentment, was popped when the horn blew for the two of them. It was Invoker’s first time out on the field as a Radiant, though he was hardly nervous. He spent more time fussing around with Nortrom than himself, constantly circling around his armor as he waited for them to be called out.

This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for. Nortrom looked positively  _ edible _ under the carefully crafted layers, and Kael patted himself on the back for the umpeenth time as he examined the full set. Now  _ that _ was armor. It made Nortrom’s old set look like a child’s costume. Every piece of it had been fitted to his specific needs, and then some. It did more than just protect him - it had nearly a thousand different enchantments layered onto it, bit by bit, to let be as perfect as Kael could make it.

This was armor kings dreamed to have. It was armor gods dreamed of making.

Kael ran a finger down the edge of the pauldron with a smile. “You are  _ splendid _ in this.”

 

It wasn’t just that they were on the same side of the war now. Kael and Nortrom had never openly done anything together outside of the tower, and now they would go to war, in the same lane, united, with Nortrom wearing the most ostentatious armor he’d ever seen, let alone owned. Kael’s praise lifted his spirits as he turned this way and that, trying to find anything that didn’t fit into place.

Even the draped robe over his back moved with little to no weight attached to it, accentuating the shape of his broad shoulders and strong back. Had Kael designed it like that on purpose? Nortrom felt oddly pleased that Kael had paid him a compliment, even if it was to his own forged armor.

“I’ll feel bad for drenching it in blood soon enough, but these fools deserve nothing but death at my hands.”

 

“I expect nothing less,” Kael purred. Today would be a good day for bloodshed, he could tell.

The horn sounded again, and they left the tower together. Not as soon-to-be-enemies, but allies for the first time. Kael ignored the stares from the rest as they walked in from the same direction and he breezed past them all to take his place in the very middle. A glower at them warned them off from his lane - his reputation as a lane hog was well-known among the Radiants as well, though they did not know it as painfully as Dire did.

His reagents flashed like miniature suns as Kael prepared his opening incantation. He would dominate this as surely as he always did, then see what Nortrom got up to. It was both professional curiosity - and a little greedy voyeurism on his part. Every master liked to watch their masterpieces at work, after all.

“Are you ready?”

 

“Of course.”

The horn sounded once more, and the carnage of their every day on this field began.


	13. Chapter 13

It was a slaughter of a victory. Nortrom kept close to Kael, though he by no means hid behind the spells and magnificence of his lover’s presence. Nortrom was a warrior in his own right, and he struck wherever he saw opportunity. The minds of his fallen enemies clung to the void of magic within him, strengthening his every attack and increasing his fervor to strike them down himself.

Their combination, the world in silence as Kael rained doom and fire on their enemies, was something to behold, and even the most begrudging Radiant hero had to admit that having the Invoker on their side was a huge benefit.

Nortrom found himself wondering how Kael felt about his silencing now that it no longer was directed at him, but their combined enemies. The noise of everything washed away, but not like a suffocating veil in your throat, but the gentle pour of rain, drowning it out. At least, that’s what a fellow mage had described to feel like, once upon a long time ago.

By the time the horn blew again and blood dripped off of Nortrom’s glaive, the victory was brutal and thorough.

 

When it’s right, it’s right.

Kael observed the devastated battlegrounds with a serene expression on his face. Pride tinged every bit of him - today’s victory even affected him thanks to how incredibly  _ thorough _ it had been. Dire had been curtailed and blocked at every turn, all thanks to him and Nortrom. Oh, sure, a few heroes from Radiant had been involved but they were unimportant on the grand scale of things. All of them knew who had  _ really _ won today’s battle.

Rest assured in the strength of his arms, Kael’s attention had instead wandered. He nearly got nailed because of that, but Nortrom had caught everyone who’d tried to interrupt his constant assault on the Dire warcamp. The way the silence turned on the other camp was fascinating enough on its own, but  _ watching _ Nortrom move, being perfectly protected by his armor, slicing through his enemies with the very glaive Kael had made…

Kael shifted, then swallowed.

The same fire that was born when he got to watch Nortrom move was back, stronger and fiercer. It simply felt  _ right _ to fight besides Nortrom, to see him kill and be protected by the very things Kael had made  _ for  _ him. Even the silence, once suspicious and concerning, was more like a comforting blanket. It deafened and silenced his enemies, while Kael’s magic roared higher as he mowed them down like chaff before his scythe.

Today was a good day. Even better, once he got his hands on Nortrom.

Kael had grown accustomed to the usual heat that made him reach for Nortrom as of late. It wasn’t as if he was a completely sexless being, after all, and Nortrom was an  _ excellent _ lover. But today… today he felt like mixing up their usual romps. A new hunger was in him, urging him forward. Sure, he hadn’t done it in some time, but Kael didn’t forget  _ that _ particular skill. Just like with his crafting, he would not falter anyway.

“Leave them,” he commanded before the celebrations could overtake them, “I’ve better intentions for you than drinking swill somewhere filthy.”

 

The celebrations never drew Nortrom anyway, and Kael’s demand had him pay a little more attention. The Invoker seemed restlessly, impatient to get away from the mob of heroes that had trodden out of the battlefield once more. Some would go to the well-traversed inn, some would prefer to revel in their victory alone, and Nortrom wanted to be back at the tower quicker than anything before.

Kael’s impatience usually meant he was eager to have Nortrom strip him down and...well. Fire flared in his lower body at the mere thought, enticed by a plethora of memories.

Quickly, he said his goodbyes to the Drow Ranger and Crystal Maiden, both of whom gave a look to the Invoker, then back at Nortrom who said nothing and turned his back on the small crowd of heroes.

“Home then. Fast.”

 

The questioning looks were rapidly left behind as Kael and Nortrom hastened to the tower before their respective desires caught them up at a more compromising location. The two of them remained tight-lipped about what exactly went on in the tower and Kael would only give them their continued appearances together as the only evidence to what they were up to. Anything else would be below him.

It still didn’t stop him from grabbing Nortrom as soon as they passed through the threshold of the tower and yanking him down for a kiss. It was difficult with his helm still on, but Kael managed just fine. The reagents went back to their normal storage and the door closed behind them, sealing them away from the world while Kael propelled Nortrom backwards to the armchair that had become his, more or less. It wasn’t often that he was this demanding, but today was a special occasion.

He only resurfaced from the kiss when the helm got too annoying for his patience. Irritably, Kael began to work the fasteners off, not waiting for the magic to remove it, snapping, “Take the helm off already, I have  _ no _ time for this.”

 

It wasn’t often Nortrom had been so befallen by a lover, let alone Kael who usually preferred the calm, sensual approach to any kind of activity together. The finely crafted armor became cumbersome all of a sudden and Nortrom scrambled to obey and get the pointed helmet off of his head, hair a tumbled mess, pauldrons unfastened quickly. He had not even the time to slip out of his gauntlets, though at least the shield and glaive were off to the side.

“K-Kael, what’s gotten into you?” he whispered breathlessly when their kiss gave him a moment of air to suck in. 

Not that it wasn’t a pleasant surprise, but Kael’s delightful eagerness had Nortrom’s heart skip beats.

 

The armor fell down soundlessly as the tower quickly caught it all and hustled them to their place in Nortrom’s rooms. It otherwise did not interfere with them, seeming to sense that now was not the time to be handing them towels and drinks.

Kael was sprawled across Nortrom’s chest - beautifully, of course - and had worked off his own cumbersome robes while Nortrom busied himself with his armor. He took the liberty of working off the rest of the chest pieces so he could lay down on Nortrom himself and not metal. Their rush didn’t give time to remove the greaves or gauntlets, but that could come later.

“You were much more splendid than I thought you would have been,” Kael told him. His hands trailed over Nortrom’s broad chest, pressing down against his bulk, “What I saw was… more than satisfying.”

Now was the time, Kael could feel. Now, while Nortrom was still half-dressed in the armor  _ he _ had made, their blood running hot with the flush of a fresh victory. Nortrom smelled like magic, and blood, and sweat, and Kael kissed him again. Choosing to switch sides had been a perfect decision - his wisdom could never fail, could it? If he hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t be appreciating such a fine view attached to such a fine elf.

Kael dragged his fingers down the front of Nortrom’s shirt and magic sparked out, slicing out a neat incision in the fabric where his fingertips touched. Normally, he was all about stripping properly but that would require  _ removing _ the armor. And that was the  _ farthest _ possible thing on Kael’s mind.

His hands moved down until he could grip Nortrom through the thin breeches he wore under his armor, and Kael’s head dipped down to nuzzle against his chest. 

 

This time he really couldn’t ask Kael about what was going on. Clearly, the Invoker was at an end with his patience. He’d never burned the clothes off of Nortrom’s body before. The sheer eagerness had Nortrom tense and hard in all the right places, though Kael was still far too dressed in all those robes he wore to battle.

“Let me...” the Invoker would not be moved, somehow heavy despite his slender body, pressing down on Nortrom with magic and desire and impatience all compacted into pressure Nortrom couldn’t lift off of him.

He licked his lips, catching the taste of Kael and humming with appreciation.

 

The breeches fell away just as his shirt had and Kael could get a good grip on him without any interference. He glanced up, and caught sight of Nortrom’s expression. He seemed frozen in place, clearly eager for what Kael had in mind, but realizing it was better for him to stay put and not obstruct him.

Good.

Kael slid down the rest of the way until he was at a more comfortable angle for what he had in mind. The tower had been kind enough to provide a cushion for his knees to rest on, and one shoulder leaned against Nortrom’s thigh as his hair spread out over his bared stomach.

They’d been sleeping together for months now. Kael had seen Nortrom naked more times than he could bother counting. He knew the feel of his cock inside him, the weight of it in his palm. He’d never gotten  _ this _ up close with it before, however, and he spent a moment just examining it.

Pleasing, he thought, just as the rest of Nortrom was.

One hand gripping Nortrom’s thigh to support himself, Kael brought his lips to the tip to give it a kiss, as fond as any he’d given Nortrom before, before taking it deeper into his mouth. It’d been a long time, but he didn’t have to rush.

 

Shock replaced the frozen mask of Nortrom’s face. Not because he’d never had anyone kneel before his cock before, but because Kael was doing this, of his own free will, not out of favour to him. It struck him...with something akin to awe. Their sexual relationship had been particularly one-sided, and Nortrom had been entirely fine with it, as long as he could have Kael in some capacity. Of course he found his pleasure, it was impossible not to when bedding such a gorgeous creature.

But Kael had never so much as lifted a finger to make Nortrom feel pleasure not secondary to his own. 

Blue eyes glued to Kael’s mouth, Nortrom stared down with his heart in his throat and his blood in a unified flood southwards in his body. What had he done to deserve this treat? And it was just that, because Kael didn’t need Nortrom, he could have any pleasure from anyone he ever sought.

 

The longer it went on, the more Kael loosened up. This wasn’t nearly as complex as everything else he was capable of and hitting a flow that didn’t make him gag was done once he remembered how to relax his throat properly. Eyes hooded, he concentrated on the task at hand. The weight on his tongue was managed by using one hand to hold him up, and patiently, carefully working his way down.

His head bobbed as his cheeks hollowed, and Kael began to suck in earnest. He’d gone  _ this _ far already - committing was a matter of pride now. He took more into his mouth until he felt the tip touch the back of his throat and he slowed, growing accustomed to the stretch. Once his gag reflex settled again, he continued. Nortrom was hot and thick in his mouth, and he wanted to keep going.

It must have been centuries - no, maybe even thousands - of years since he’d done this. Outside of the rowdier days of his youth, Kael didn’t remember much of what  _ he’d _ done for the pleasure of his lovers. But this was no favor or reward for Nortrom. Kael was here because he wanted it, and he was firm too, straining for touch. Taking Nortrom like this was better than he’d expected. The hand that had a death grip on Nortrom’s thigh moved down to his own cock while Kael shifted his weight, giving himself a better angle to swallow him down from. He made a muffled noise of relief around his mouthful when he managed to work his breeches open one-handed.

Nortrom was close to completely overwhelmed once he felt that velvety tongue against his cock, he had to grip the armrests tight to keep himself under control. Yes, Kael was on his knees, with his lips around his member, sucking to give him earnest pleasure. Nortrom had to remember that breathing was an essential part of life and not to be neglected. But this, this...

He didn’t dare blink in case he’d miss something and Kael would decide not to pursue this wondrous and generous path further.

“Kael-!” Nortrom couldn’t voice the why, or that this wasn’t necessary, he’d be more than happy to get on his knees too and pleasure the Invoker, but Kael was not giving him choice, he was giving the heady thrill of a quickly building orgasm.

 

He knew it once he felt the way Nortrom tensed under him, and the choked desperation of his voice. Kael’s mouth curled -  _ still _ hadn’t lost it, clearly - and he worked even more enthusiastically than before. Sucking Nortrom off wasn’t bad - pleasant, actually - and he moaned around his cock as his hand grew more insistent, pushing himself to where Nortrom was already waiting for him.

The little whining noises that escaped Nortrom made it all even better. Kael loved the moments where he looked helplessly in awe the best - face flushed and his entire body tensed up while Kael took an almost hedonistic pleasure to everything Nortrom would give him. Even when when receiving something from Kael, Nortrom just kept on being a gift that persisted in  _ giving _ .

Yes, he was  _ definitely _ doing this again later.

 

Nortrom wasn’t exactly prepared to endure this onslaught of pleasure for long, and he didn’t get much of a choice about where his cock was at. A hand left the armrest as he curled over, straining to keep himself under control.

“Kael...” this moan was insistent, almost begging in its own right. Nortrom would never sully his tremendous lover, but if he had to hold on for a second longer, he may just implode. His breath was short and his eyes pleading, pleasure ripping at his meticulous self-control.

 

Oh, was  _ that _ the problem?

Kael almost wanted to chuckle. Nortrom could be surprisingly  _ endearing _ sometimes. He let the cock slide out wetly but didn’t stray too far from it. He let go long enough to take hold of Nortrom’s hand, and squeezed it.

“I want it,” he murmured, smiling. There was no need to clarify - they both knew his meaning. Still looking up at Nortrom, Kael’s mouth dropped back down to swallow him up again.

 

A small whine confirmed Nortrom’s understanding of the situation, right before he no longer held back and let Kael taste just how much his proactive desires had been appreciated. Nortrom lost his rigid posture, sinking into the armchair with a blissful expression and the solid nature of jelly.

Kael had many undiscovered talents, and he’d volunteer to experience all of them if they involved the tight wet heat of his mouth and the sultry look from under his hair upwards and...

Nortrom felt his cock twitch again just thinking about it.

Without thought Nortrom hefted Kael up. It was the benefit of the mage’s light and slender body that it could just be entirely lifted if Nortrom wanted to do so. He draped Kael into his lap, arms tight around him as he buried his face in his neck. It was the kind of affection he usually restrained to a sleeping, defenseless Kael.

 

Kael was still sucking even when he felt the orgasm. He swallowed automatically - he was  _ not _ spitting in his own home, on his own carpet, even if it would be cleaned - and was about to bend down for more when he felt the strong arms lift him away from his goal.

He was dragged up to be embraced in a rather undignified heap, but Kael could forgive Nortrom for mussing up his robes. He  _ had _ been incredibly wonderful to him, after all. His fingers brushed through Nortrom’s wild hair, petting him. He could feel Nortrom’s girth under him still and he hadn’t had his own orgasmn yet. Cuddling was all good and nice, but it would be  _ vastly _ preferable to after he was taken care of. His hips rolled, trying to coax Nortrom into a friskier mood.

 

It didn’t take much to entice Nortrom. Especially not when he was so riled up. His cock stood to attention, made endurant by their months of frequent tumbles. Nortrom smiled into Kael’s neck as he shook off the second gauntlet so his hands could go exploring. Kael was exposed and eager and it didn’t take long before they were rocking their bodies together once more, in varying stages of undress, Nortrom muffling his moans and confessions into Kael’s shoulder.

The word love clung to his tongue, just barely behind his teeth, threatening to fall out at any moment.  _ Not yet. Not now. Possibly not ever. He already knows, doesn’t he? _

 

The two of them were both messes, half undressed and splayed out as they reached for every bit of exposed skin. Kael arched up to kiss Nortrom, his hips rolling against him so a delicious friction formed between their bodies. They both breathed heavily, too involved in each other to want to pull away even for undressing. Kael wanted Nortrom in him already, but they were both too tangled up for that to be an option, so he made do by grinding down on him.

His orgasm was approaching quickly. Kael gasped Nortrom’s name as his head fell back, eyes screwed shut, and climaxed as he gripped his shoulders tightly.

 

Nortrom could only hold Kael and stare, drinking in the sight of him. Every day, he saw this face, this body, and it would never be enough. He wanted to be a part of Kael as much as this tower was, as his spells were. Something to be beside him, expected, even if it was taken for granted. He’d have to put the question to himself some time as to when it became acceptable that he was taken for granted by anyone, or put on the same level as a semi-sentient building.

The only sound he wanted to hear was his name from Kael’s lips. No one quite wrapped their tongue around the old elven sound of it, nor pronounced it with such delight. Granted, the situation demanded it, but Nortrom heard what he wanted to.

And following another orgasm, he could not keep it to himself, instead confiding into Kael’s neck that his heart was firmly the Invoker’s.

 

Kael heard none of that. He was too busy reeling in the aftershock of his orgasm, struggling to put together the scattered pieces of his mind as he fell back to earth and Nortrom. He slumped on his shoulder, pressed close against him. There was another mess between them - and under him, he could feel - and their clothes were surely disgusting by now. Still, Kael was too satisfied to quibble about it right now.

“We really must fight together more,” he sighed, eyes fluttering shut, “and show the rest of the world how dull they seem next to you and me.”

That sounded good to his ears. Crushing Dire, watching Nortrom fight in this armor, and then finishing it all off with their own celebration. 

 

So he had heard nothing. Luckily. Nortrom breathed a sigh of relief, then chuckled as he pulled himself back enough to kiss Kael’s face, the gorgeous, sharp cheekbones, the long, elegant nose.

“We must. I should demand we only fight if we can be beside each other. That way the victory of the Radiant Ancient lies.”

Nortrom’s heart was still pounding from his ill-fated confession, and he was glad only Kael’s skin had witnessed it.

 

“Who cares who wins?” Kael toyed with Nortrom’s ruined shirt, then under it as he felt along the muscles there. Though he was spent right now, a mild heat zinged up him as he pressed his fingers against his skin until it paled under the pressure. “Certainly not I. As long as I can have you, I care little for the state of the war.”

Kael was honestly beginning to consider leaving at this rate. Not this month, maybe not even this year. But certainly someday, once the Ancients lost all interest for him and Kael grew bored of thrashing the same fifty people over and over again. He already found Nortrom, so what else was there for him here?

“Your colleagues might take umbrage to that.” Kael cared little, but Nortrom seemed to be a little closer to them than he ever would be.

 

“They don’t matter. You do.” Nortrom was brash in his honesty, and if he wasn’t so addled by his recent orgasm, he might have spared the ancients and their heroes a little more respect. Some of them were his friends, companions, but he would dismiss them all in a heartbeat for Kael.

In fact. He should make sure Kael knew that. Exactly that.

“If you ever choose to leave. Know I would follow you. Without a second of hesitation.”

 

“You are sweet,” Kael smiled, pleased, and pressed a kiss to his brow. “Your loyalty to me has been noted, Nortrom.”

Such a dear, dear thing, his Nortrom. His adoration still hadn’t grown old for Kael - he wanted to submerge himself deeper in it, drink it all down, consume every bit that Nortrom was willing to give.

“We could go to different lands… see more.  _ Learn _ more. The Ancients’ war will rage on with or without us, and these mortals will keep their petty feuds going without our input. There are better and brighter places than here. I have been meaning to sail away, maybe, and see what continents are out there. Or fly, higher than anyone else, and see if I can touch the heavens.”

So many plans. So much knowledge. Kael couldn’t get enough of it all. “Stay by my side, if you will.”

 

“I want to.” Nortrom didn’t have to think to answer. Seeing the rest of the world paled in comparison to knowing Kael, but he would risk anything and go anywhere for this feeling he had only in Kael’s presence. He knew he was doomed, and this time there was no large demon king involved in it.

“I would go anywhere at your side. Let...”

He breathed deeply, then smiled brightly for the Invoker.

“Let us leave the war behind then.”

 

“We are agreed,” Kael said. Their brief conversation was all the rest he needed. Nortrom looked ravishing still, and he wanted to get out of their sticky, tangled clothes to indulge in him properly. Kael shrugged off the robes, which were whisked away, and wriggled out of his breeches after his boots were kicked off. “Now… let us discuss something more immediate than that.”

Pushing off of Nortrom before he could grab him, Kael tilted his chin up at him, looking like the cat that got the canary  _ and _ the cream. “Join me once you get rid of that,” he waved towards the armor Nortrom was still encased in and the strips of clothing that clung to his skin, “try not to take too long or I might just start without you.”

With that closing statement, he whirled on his heel and sauntered to the doorway to his chambers.

 


	14. Chapter 14

Leaving the war of the ancients was not as easy as Kael had made it seem. They couldn’t simply walk away from it all. It was akin to a powerful binding spell, and the horn for battle compelled them time and time again. Kael and Nortrom both made what they wanted of the battles, and more than once they simply ignored the call to fight and enjoyed each other instead.

Eventually, their defiance took root, and the Ancients stopped calling them to their war. They were dismissed, in silence, released from the eternal struggle.

It happened without ceremony or fanfare, without warning or time for goodbyes. The battlefield was no longer accessible to them.

The heroes still involved seemed to know, and none took more personal offense than Magina. But even he, with the good advice of his own immortal companion in the form of the Monkey King, parted with Nortrom on even terms, wishing he find what he deserved and wanted and cringing when Nortrom said he already had.

 

-x-

 

“What of the tower?”

Nortrom stepped outside of it one last time, his armor neatly taken apart and in a towering pack on his back. He was ready to travel, though he mourned the luxury of the arcane tower.

 

Kael was already waiting outside, holding no bags or anything that wasn’t his reagents. He raised a brow when he saw the hiking gear Nortrom had gotten ready with, both amused and fond. The lodestone of the tower was already out for him to pluck up whenever and his carriage was ready to be deployed.

“It is ready to go when I wish it,” he said, and pulled the lodestone out. Immediately, the tower flashed with bright light as the magic sustaining it drained away. The entire thing began to collapse, falling level upon level, all its contents turning into dust and earth as the magic that had kept it holding its shape returned to the lodestone. In moments, the beautiful tower was no more than a pile of sad dirt and stones. With a  _ whoosh _ , the wards in the forest also returned to the lodestone, making an audible buzz as the magic stuffed itself back into its container.

There. Part one handled.

“There will be no  _ walking _ , Nortrom. I thought you would know better of the legends about me.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a miniature carriage model. He tossed it and it expanded, growing until it became a carriage that was more like a gilded, beautiful house on wheels. Light spirits bucked on the reins of the carriage, glowing and flickering like living candles as they woke from their long slumber.

“I live comfortably. I also  _ travel _ comfortably.” The door to the carriage opened, and Kael made a come-hither motion to Nortrom. “Now hurry up.”

True to the style of the tower, the carriage was a little bigger on the inside. There was the outdoor section from where Kael could direct the spirits and watch the land below. Double doors led to the inner part that was all one big room. A large bed was tucked into a corner under a wide window currently obscured by heavy drapes, and other items of comfort and luxury - beautiful tapestries and soft cushions, silk curtains and oak bookshelves, plush carpets and fur-covered divans - were scattered around the cozy space. Kael pushed the lodestone into a wall and magic made it come alive as the entire room shifted like a stretching cat. Magic spread out, setting up new wards and protections, before one silk curtain gave a wave as if to greet them all over again. Everything gave a final ripple before settling down and when he touched the carriage wall, the familiar magic that had inhabited that tower was imbued into the carriage.

 

Nortrom should have expected it, but Kael had told him to pack up earlier and so he had prepared for an arduous hike. That was the common way of getting around. Why had Kael settled at all if he possessed the means to travel so comfortably. 

But hell, he wouldn’t be found complaining about it. A seat at the window afforded him a good view of the land they’d travel. 

“You could have said you had a Lodestone in place. I was...I was sure the tower would be left behind.” Was he a little insulted? Yes, yes he was. Packing took time and effort and Kael had watched him do it!

 

“I didn’t realize you would pack so thoroughly,” Kael said, stifling his smile. They both climbed into the carriage and it slowly began to move as the light spirits stretched, readying for flight. “By then it was too late, and your concentration on your task was too dear to interrupt.”

A little part of him might’ve just wanted to see the look on his face when Kael pulled out the carriage, but  _ he _ wouldn’t admit to that. Consider it a pleasant surprise. “The tower comes with me always, no matter where I go. I could not leave something so lovely behind for pissants to plunder.”

He laid a hand across Nortrom’s in a non-apology. “At least you know now.”

 

Now, as opposed to this morning when they decided they would move on. It felt a little strange, to depart the war he’d been expecting to be part of for years to come, but Kael was a fortunate circumstance and contrary to expectation, a pleasure to be around and to love. At least, in Nortrom’s humble opinion.

He grasped the hand gently, keeping it in his. They were alone on the road as far as he was concerned, and he didn’t intend to pretend to be shy.

“I think perhaps you like having me look a bit of a fool, could it be?”

 

“If the tag fits…” Kael moued, and let himself be pulled closer to Nortrom’s side. The lodestone could manage their flight upwards. Neither of them had a clear idea of where they wanted to go but away, so the carriage currently headed south for warmer lands untouched by war or catastrophe.

They shared a kiss that was as affectionate as it was soft. Kael had removed his boots after entering the carriage, and, at his wave, the carriage yanked on Nortrom’s footwear too. They were put away for later - the carriage was clean and everywhere was carpeted so it wasn’t as if they needed to protect their feet.

Kael curled up next to him and looked out the window. The light spirits began to move fast and their magic took hold as the carriage lifted up, little by little, until they were traveling above the forest line. The land grew smaller the more altitude they gained, until even the sprawling war camps looked like tiny dots.

“Good-bye, fools,” Kael snorted.

 

“I hope this conflict won’t shatter the world,” Nortrom muttered. Seeing the battlefield from above was surreal. The sprawling forests, the light points of both Radiant and Dire...this was a life, for many weeks and even years for some. Yet he was staring down at it, as if it was a model for children. He had Kael’s legs on his lap, stroking perfectly smooth skin on his feet, fingers digging into the spots he knew to make his lover sigh happily.

“And I hope not to come back ever again.”

 

-x-

 

They travelled incessantly. Lakes and lands and mountains passed under the carriage as they flew far from the Ancients. They spent their time growing more familiar with each other’s bodies and sharing conversations under the cover of the night, when the two of them were both too worn out to continue but still to riled to sleep. Kael continued to refresh his skills with oral and they both took turns wearing each other against whatever surface the carriage could offer before collapsing to talk, read, or vaguely argue over magic. Kael updated his journals with new research topics in between, somehow managing to find the time to maintain Nortrom’s armor, fill another page with magical theory, work on a minor side project involving jewelry, ride Nortrom through the mattress, then update his wards in the lodestone.

Kael was never bored, as he always found something to do.

Eventually, the landscape began to change. Kael shed his robes until he was dressed only in the soft, figure-hugging summer robe that shimmered like water when he moved, and frequently had a fan cooling him down as he worked in the outdoor section of the carriage. The ocean glittered nearer when they reached their new destination - a chain of islands located in the Southern Summer Sea. Little outlines of ships could be seen far below, leaving frothy tails behind them as they cut through the water. To them, their carriage would only look like a glittering comet too far to be made out.

“The Isles of Xanxes,” Kael said as he looked out over the island chain. “I haven’t come here in a long time.”

 

Nortrom could get used to this style of travelling. It didn’t work him out half as much, but Kael saw that he got his exercise, one way or another. He felt like a lazy, sated king most days, reading or simply watching Kael, until they found their next surge of lust, propelling them towards one another.

If this was a way to live, Nortrom would embrace it as his own gladly.

When the sun became a constant companion and he could exchange his robes for sleeveless shirts and loose breeches, Nortrom took that on gladly too. The tan of his skin deepened but the lines seemed to lessen. Without battle and the constant struggle of travelling alone, from one bounty to the next, Nortrom became more relaxed, looked younger, happier.

 

“My last visit was… maybe a hundred years ago, though only to a small part of it.” Kael ambled away from the balcony and sat down next to Nortrom. With a wave, light bent until a map formed. It copied the shape, topography, and geography of the island down to each exacting detail - all taken from Kael’s eidetic memory. He never purged his mental maps.

“This is the main island and where we will go. I expect the libraries and university to let us in, since they have a standing order to open their doors for me since my first visit two thousand years ago. We could visit the court, though that’s usually the king trying to convince me to take one of his daughters for a wife.” Kael’s face wrinkled in disgust. “They think to tempt me with a _human_ _female_ , just so that they may claim my blood in their lineage. _Irritating_. If the library wasn’t so complete, I would have burned this particular island down after their last insulting offer.”

Being begged to take wives or partake in breeding programs was, unfortunately, somewhat regular. Mortals always forgot that he refused each and every offer, and every idiot who had the bright idea of breeding a super-mage tried to tempt him into the operation. As  _ if _ the  _ Invoker _ would act like some stud for  _ their _ worthless ambitions.

He flicked his fingers until the image blew up. A little city could be seen, bustling with tiny people. “You grew up in Aeol Drias - a small center of knowledge of its own right. But have you ever visited any other such pilgrimages?”

Kael had visited them all. Each and every one of them let him through their doors - or refused and had their contents seized before being burnt down by an irate Invoker. He would not be refused from any library, university, or temple, and to refuse him was to insult him.

 

The notion of someone trying to wed Kael was both amusing and disgusting. He was not some wild stallion, come by and to be tempted with broodmares. He was an elf, a person who had pride and taste and emotion, though the latter was buried deep. Aeol Drias...the order had been no better than the people seeking to get Kael’s bloodline into their family. Worse, maybe, because they thought they could simply breed in his image and arrive at some sort of ultimate mage. In a sense, Nortrom had been bred for Kael, and that thought was unsettling. All physical features had been ignored, no elf selected for beauty, only power.

That’s how he had ended up darker than any elf he’d ever known, with piercing eyes and pathetically short ears.

“I have not. When I finished my education, I took it upon myself to seek out corrupt and greedy mages. I wanted to measure my power against theirs.”

 

“Then you will come with me as we go to these places. They are sacred founts of knowledge - I visit them every few hundred years to see what new data they might have picked up and observe the changes in the land. A few bright scholars sometimes manage to surprise even I with their serendipity.”

The clouds began to grow higher than their carriage as they circled down, looking to land in the courtyard of the central university. “I will also have them copy and preserve the current studies I have made on you, and open up a new magical branch for the history books. Knowledge is best when it is kept, after all.”

Kael had yet to attempt to learn silencing, though it would come up sooner or later. For now, he just wanted to save the records he had. “After I tour the shelves, the rest is up to you. I hear the island has exotic beasts bred for hunters.”

 

“Exotic beasts, hm? I do enjoy a little hunting here and there.” his overly sensitive hearing was a benefit to regular life, but only one of solitude. Nortrom had tried living in a town just once in his life. It didn’t turn out well.

“I’d like to read it some day. What you’ve written about me. About my talent. I’ve met only a few capable of it, but they were the oddest of creatures on the battlefield.”

One a spirit, one a fairy dragon, another a ranger of the Drow people, a satyr prince...silencing was an eccentric talent, and none of the heroes he spoke with knew how it came to be. The only thing he’d been able to conclude was that none of the silences worked the same way.

 

“You’ve seen it. Just notes and theories, mainly. The copyists will compile it into a legible chronicle.”

The topic of silencing was always perplexing to Kael. He’d met those very creatures, just as Nortrom had, and their talents were as esoteric and odd as their bearers were. He’d tracked a few to study them but turned away once he realized their magic was specific to their person and not learnable. Nortrom had turned all those theories upside down, however, and Kael thought of them again. He would study a few, if they lived after this stupid war.

Birds squawked around them as their carriage descended until it touched the ground, light as a feather. The drapes fell over the window, putting them both in shadow and away from prying eyes. “Time to face the loathsome academia,” Kael said, dry, “be a dear and intimidate the more foppish ones.”

Wastes of time, honestly. It would be better if Kael could just wipe them out and trawl the beautiful tomes on his lonesome - well, maybe not lonesome. A few kisses among the shelves wouldn’t be amiss.

 

“Do you want me to wear armor? I feel like that would certainly bring the point across,” Nortrom chuckled, placing a kiss on Kael’s nose before rising from his seat to find something more appropriate to wear. His hair had grown and needed to be bundled if he was to stuff it under a helmet. He took the long wooden needle between his teeth as he made a messy pile on the top of his head, nudging the cabinet open that held his pack. Of course the armor was gleaming and polished.

He could probably pull off looking like some sort of elven guard, ready to murder in Kael’s name.

Actually, he wouldn’t mind that role at all.

 

“If you desire.” He didn’t  _ need _ Nortrom’s company to be intimidating, but his presence would certainly make certain topics far more bearable than they usually were. Kael watched Nortrom begin to dress, ignoring the hesitant people who were slowly gathering outside the carriage, before he finally got up. His robes fell around his feet as his reagents flew up to his side, ready for anything, and Kael was replaced by the Invoker, imperious and distant.

“By my side, Nortrom,” he said. With a wave of his hand, the carriage door flew open and Kael stepped out as if he were a king visiting his subjects for the first time in years. Soft gasps went up when the people recognized him, and a few went running to find someone far better suited to greeting the infamous Invoker to their university grounds.

Kael’s eyes raked over the assembled crowd and he smiled faintly, like a shark scenting blood in the water.

“Bring me to your collection.”

Kael bullied his way in short order. No one would withstand his blunt entrance as he waved off all concerns and walked deeper into the ancient university to the archives. A guide attempted to follow, but Kael snapped a few things in a foreign tongue that made him blanch and leave. After that, they were left alone in the shelves.

Kael ran his fingers along the book spines, and inhaled the smell of musty paper. “A new collection,” he said approvingly.

 

Nortrom didn’t need to take his shield, content to trail Kael with a threatening frown on his face, glaring at anyone who looked to disturb the immortal mage on his visit.  Soon enough, they were entirely alone and Nortrom saw more shelves and books that he could practically taste the magic seeping out of.

“Doesn’t look that new,” he mused, browsing past the shelves, helmet in hands as he let his fingers brush over the spines. Each of them tingled a little more than the next.

“These tomes aren’t sealed properly,” he muttered when a little stardust came off of one particular book and clung to his digits.

 

“New is relative. This collection is fifty years old by your count, and could have been written just yesterday by mine.” A new study on dragon magic, hm? That was definitely worthy of a skim at least. It might give him a few new ideas, even if he’d thought of it first.

Kael looked up only when Nortrom said that, one brow raised. “It does not matter if they are or not. The magic in them is weak enough that it risks no harm to the other books or readers. Besides - this library is populated with shitty wizards who might have two hexes memorized if they are ahead of the competition. None of them could do anything on  _ my _ level.”

He plucked choice tomes out of the shelves and they floated in the air next to his head like dutiful ducklings. Kael’s examination of the books was far more focused than Nortrom’s was, and he passed by him several times as a new book here and there kept drawing his eye. Once the air was populated by a flock of floating books, Kael stopped by Nortrom. He leaned in and cupped his face for lack of anything better to hold - every other part of him was too heavily armored.

“Does anything interest you?”

 

“Not the books,” Nortrom kept his gaze locked on his prize. No amount of interesting literature could douse what he felt for Kael, and the reverent way the residents had treated Kael’s arrival only made him all the more eager to enjoy his lover in a purely selfish fashion.

“Or is this collection so significant it would hold your attention away from me?”

He could be out of this armor in an instant, if necessary.

 

Kael sent Nortrom a sharp, amused glance. The books went to a shelf to stack themselves neatly while Kael turned to Nortrom fully, a hand drifting down to his chest. “You seek to keep my attention?” 

They  _ were _ alone in the library, after all. They wouldn’t be bothered for at least an hour. There would be no interruptions if they wanted to get into anything. Kael pulled Nortrom down for a lingering kiss. “Do you have anything particular in mind?”

 

Nortrom wasn’t going to be shy at the wrong moment in time, and here and now they were entirely alone. His arms found their way around Kael, and lifting him up was no trouble either. He could easily hold the mage up for an hour or so. 

“Maybe. It depends how eager you are to read this collection.”

The Invoker’s thirst for knowledge may have found an equal hunger, because reading had become a secondary priority.

Nortrom left the building not an hour later, armor back in place and positively glowing. He left Kael to his own devices, lest he distract him once more. 


	15. Chapter 15

It wouldn’t remain the only time Kael seemed amenable to abandoning his scholarly habits for a little intimacy with Nortrom, but the moments became less frequent stretched between various libraries and collections of knowledge that lay beyond the expectations the Invoker had arrived with.

Nortrom found himself wandering more often than not, searching for something to do in the island paradise as his lover occupied himself with dusty tomes.

-x-

Their time on the island passed peacefully. Kael and Nortrom settled in rapidly after Kael bullied free board for them out of the university, kicked out the headmaster from his own office, and proceeded to enact a bloodless coup of every academic institution on Xanxes. The defeated professors and librarians soon bowed down to his domineering personality and Kael immersed himself in the world he’d left behind for the Ancients war. Tome after tome was devoured. Long forgotten letters were read. He even banished Nortrom from his room once his impatience grew too much to handle. Nortrom could amuse himself in his own time. The island was big, the court of the (increasingly affronted and nervous) king was open to him, as were the all the jungles. He could find something else that wasn’t Kael’s body to occupy his time.

While Nortrom was gone, Kael caught up on old communications. His annual studies with the Icewrack Wizard was going well, as were his communications to the Outerlands and Elze. A few projects were checked on, then forgotten once they proved to be quiet.

Kael travelled around the island on his own frequently, foregoing the carriage to simply teleport between islands. He inspected the water, the nature, even spent a whole day perched on a tower simply watching the clouds - then continued into the night to observe the stars. The little changes were noted down, then stored into the lodestone that always hung in his pocket.

A week passed by where Kael saw neither hair nor hide of Nortrom as he kept to himself. He stopped sleeping as well, finding better uses for his night than sprawling out in a bed. It was then that the message came.

Missives to Kael were common, though their chances of reaching their intended recipient were heart-stoppingly low. Only the most persistent letters reached him, which was why Kael accepted the letter that arrived for him by spirit, brow raised. The age of the parchment said that this message had waited many years for him, and he opened it slowly so as to not damage the note.

_ Kael, Arsenal Magus, Scion of the Sun, _

Already, this letter was interesting. Only one group called Kael  _ that _ . He was known by many names throughout the world and had as many titles under his belt as people had hair on their heads. The Burning Cabal had formed around him on his jaunt to the Hazhadal Barrens over a thousand years ago. He’d gotten fine gifts from the mages that’d clustered near, eager for his attention, but they grew boring once the old guard died. Kael left them, carrying his title away as well.

Well. Now they reached out to him. He was just curious enough to be willing read.

_ Many years have passed since your presence graced the desert. We pray for your return as new enemies of the Cabal rise up against us. The city-state Isla and the Knights of the Fold they harbor plot. New information regarding mystical artifacts have arisen, and the Torchbearer believes that the Knights have stolen the Archronicus from its last known location within the Skytower of Aeol Drias. We beg of you, greatest and grandest of mages, to aid us in our quest to liberate the Archronicus from the zealots before they misuse its most ancient and arcane wisdom. May your fires never die. _

The  _ Archronicus _ .

Kael lit the letter on fire. There was no sense in keeping such information lying around, and he would remember its contents anyway. So his little Cabal had grown in his absence, if they thought to challenge the Knights of the Fold. Kael had never had the misfortunate of treading on their insignificant bodies, but the rumors he’d heard of were unpleasant.

Forced conversions. Zealotry. Village burning. Massacres.

Not anything he cared much for - but the Archronicus was a different matter entirely. It was a magical artifact, no doubt about it, and its nature was  _ most _ mysterious. It was said that it had some magic that let it appear in historic locations to record events, and secrets most obscure and obscene were hidden in its uncountable pages.

His fingers itched to hold something like that. Kael  _ had _ been meaning to find that book, one day. He’d seen it only once before when he first became the Arsenal Magus. It’d written  _ him _ down, most surely, but his efforts to gain the book had always failed. It resisted him, magically, which only made Kael strive for it harder.

Such a side-trip was an acceptable sojourn. And better he could be rid of those moronic Knights. Chen was one of the most irritating Radiant heroes he’d ever met, spouting off platitudes from his religion and charging around like some kind of arcane knight. And his  _ magic _ was a wild, useless thing - worthless in practice.

Yes, he  _ could _ leave the comfort of his most recent new home, Xanxes, for this.

_ Quas. Exort. Exort _ .

A little forge spirit, carefully dimmed down so its power did not blind, appeared on his hand. Kael imbued it with more magic - Nortrom’s face, his armor, the particular way he carried himself - into it so it would recognize the elf. All the time he’d spent with him gave Kael a peculiar, intimate knowing of the void that he carried. The spirit would find him, and recognize it to relay the message.

_ Something has come up that may interest you, dear Nortrom. Come to the university. _

 

Kael's cold shoulder had not come as a surprise, though it pulled an ache from his heart nonetheless.

He didn't need to be personally dismissed to busy himself. Nortrom was a fool in love, but he was not a helpless child. With Kael buried in his various scholarly activities, the Silencer saw less and less of his lover, It suited him ill to be idle.

Xanxes offered him much, and yet very little. There were no out of control mages, no wars and battles. The most Nortrom could do was learn another form of close quarters combat, which he did, with enthusiasm. In return, he demonstrated his skills, bested the mages that dared to challenge him on reputation alone, put their inferior minds in the rightful place. Once that concluded, however, the dullness returned.

He longed to be at Kael's side, yet never tried to gain access to it. He was patient. He'd wait.

And wait he did, until that fateful day a forge spirit showed up to summon him, much like an errant dog.

Nortrom tried his best not to rush in, he really did. Entering the place at a sedate pace, in casual attire, as if he'd been on his way to something else. Everything was kept under control, despite his deep need to embrace Kael.

"...Kael. You called for me?"

 

“Is there anyone else who can send a forge spirit after you to summon you? Don’t ask such obvious questions.” Kael sorted through the other letters as he pushed through the stack. Most of them had been burnt away - a small ashy pile was slowly leaving a permanent stain on the headmaster’s beautiful desk. “Sit down, sit down. I received a letter today, from the east. The Burning Cabal desires to see me again.”

Would Nortrom know of them? He  _ did _ say his purpose had been mage hunter once. Surely a group that Kael had once been the head of would be significant enough to be on his map? Unless the Cabal was far more disappointing than he initially believed, which would be a shame. He was fond of the robes he’d received from them so many years ago.

 

Nortrom did sit down, but a sneer made its way across his face. The Burning Cabal. A bunch of mages that sought only to bring terrible twists of fate into the world, their selfish agenda a scorch mark on magic itself.

"Of course I've heard of them. The bounties on each of their heads is worth a small kingdom."

The leaders of it had been on his list. Before the war, before Kael. That list was now gathering dust, just like most of Nortrom's other ambitions. Love made him exceptionally blind.

 

“That  _ is _ good. They have done my name proud if they are so famous - but of course, anything  _ I _ make will always be notorious.”

Fire streamed from his fingers as he drew up the magic that gave him his origin title as Scion of the Sun. The fire trailed to his brow, drawing the same design that one particular headdress of his bore -  _ Exort _ , symbol of the sun and flame. “They tell me that they may know where the location of the magical tome, Archronicus is - but that they desperately need my gracious aid as they cannot stand against their target alone. The Knights of the Fold have grown powerful, and worse than I remember. Taking the Archronicus from them would be my  _ right _ .”

What petty ambitions did his Cabal hold, Kael thought absently. It did not matter in the long-run - they would die, and their ambitions would die. He’d seen and heard of his Cabal’s generations of ambitious fire mages trying to take over kingdoms, burn down whole countries - and he’d seen it wither down and die just as well. Just as that other group they’d been so close with.

“Ah.” It’d quite slipped his attention, since he’d dismissed as barely worth of notice. “ _ You _ are from Aeol Drias, yes? The Cabal had ties with them, once. They were destroyed, though I hardly care for what circumstances it happened in. Deservedly, most likely.”

 

“I would say so.”

Nortrom watched the fire play around Kael, as easily conjured as any of the household magic abundant when they lived in the tower. Magic obeyed Kael’s every wish with the eager attention of a pet.

However, the Silencer’s thoughts could not linger on his lover, when he spoke of his once worst enemy. The order and the Knights both.

“It was I that destroyed the Aeol Drias order.”

The Knights of the Fold likely swooped in after Nortrom was finished taking out the archmages, the ones who had presided over his final test and lived within the Skytower. And probably raided what knowledge had been stored there too.

 

“Oh?” Kael banished the flames as easily as he’d called them up, and interest glimmered in his white eyes. “I did not know of this. You did not tell me.” His tone was only mildly rebrobatory.

How  _ amusing _ , however. Just what had driven Nortrom to go and destroy the very order that’d made him? A quest for power? Him coming into his silence, and turning it on the very mages who’d nourished and nurtured that ability through their relentless breeding and training?

“Tell me of it, before I go on.”

 

Killing his old order had been a matter of personal vengeance, the exploration of his newfound power and bloodlust, all in one. It wasn't his proudest achievement, but Nortrom was by no means ashamed of it either. 

Much the opposite. He'd waited to tell Kael until the mage wanted to know.

"The Order saw me as their greatest, failure, as you well know. I wanted to show them, meticulously, just how greatly they had underestimated me. Just how easily they and their great, treasured knowledge of magic would not save them.

So I awaited the final exam; and when the day came, I partook, like every other student. I stood upon that sand and faced my first opponent down. The students were no match at all. I showed them the mercy they never had for me; I did not take their lives, but I did take their magic. Sealed to never cast a spell again. I was not so lenient with my seniors, my mentors and would-be masters; I took their lives, suffocated them with their own spells and voices. 

All the way up," Nortrom's hand indicated the spiral of the Skytower, "to the archmage. Perhaps the Cabal was wise not to be present that day, because I left no fully fledged mage alive. The arcanery, the library, I left it all for the vultures to pick clean."

 

“That is the only lamentable part of your tale,” Kael remarked, “as for the rest - as I said. Destroyed, and deservedly.”

The ignorant deserved to die if they could not see the same wonder that Kael did when he gazed upon Nortrom. Their own blindness had been their downfall, as it had happened to so many other fools who thought they knew all when they only knew a half of the half of the incomplete world. “It must have been a grand sight to see.”

And only a few years prior. Where had Kael been, in that time? Already embroiled in the Ancients war? Perhaps in Xanxes, taking his fill of tomes and study.

“But that is in the past. Aeol Drias lies ruined, and the Cabal now turns to  _ me _ for help. The Archronicus… that would be a  _ fine _ prize.” He rested his head on a hand, elbow on the desk. His legs were to the side, crossed as Kael luxuriated on the simple leather chair as if it were a silk-draped divan. “I am of half a mind to go, if only so I may see if they speak true. My Cabal knows what things motivate me - I don’t care what other purpose they have with the Knights.”

 

"Are you asking my opinion of this decision, or informing me?" Nortrom desperately wanted Kael in his arms, in his lap, on his mouth or any part of his skin, but the disturbing notion that he'd help the Burning Cabal was chilling. They were terrible mages, who had done terrible things in Kael's absence. Surely, he would not associate his name with them once more?

"They do you dishonor, the Cabal. You should not stoop to aid such lowly, craven mages."

 

“I care little for mortals who will die sooner or later. But knowledge is forever. The Archronicus is a worthy prize, and I have done worse for less.” He looked at Nortrom - saw the questions in him. “This matters is only of concern to me. I had thought you would want to accompany me, but if it  _ is _ that conflicting to you…”

Kael shrugged a shoulder, and looked out the window. It was growing closer to dusk and the seabirds were closing in on the beaches as the very first stars glittered faintly in defiance of the setting sun.

“... you are _ free _ to leave.”

 

“I have my own business with the Knights of the Fold,” Nortrom didn’t much care for this side of Kael, to do whatever was necessary for his collection. Because he could, just as easily, wipe the Cabal out and retrieve his book, without seeming like a mage without honor.

Honor was a thing only mortals cared for, he could already hear the unspoken answer.

“I would prefer to travel with you, but if you are opposed, I shall find a mage for a portal on my own.”

 

“Don’t be absurd. What mage can facilitate travel as well as  _ I _ can? You would probably end up at the bottom of the ocean if you let any of these dull-witted buffoons try anything on you.” Kael uncrossed his legs and stood, considering the horizon line as he looked out the window. He was already eager to investigate these rumors of the Archronicus, as far away as it was. Xanxes and its tomes could wait - he was already excited to see it. The ancient tome of the world’s knowledge… a  _ fine _ addition to his lodestone.

“We will go tonight,” he determined after some thought. “You will come with me, of course, and we will retrieve the Archronicus. After that, the Cabal does as it will.”

Let his legacy go on. They were slightly less important than what color boots he might wear but they  _ were _ his, so he might as well keep them from being as foolishly destroyed as Aeol Drias was. Ah, such were the  _ burdens  _ of ancient beings of long-lived wisdom like he!

 

The Cabal would certainly not do as it liked, as long as Nortrom still had a conscience and a mind to do something about it.

Why not earn a little along the way? He owed Magina and himself that much, since he was letting the biggest bounty of the mage world live, eager to to please it, even.

"Fine. And I will see to the Knights of the Fold."

And he'd have to burn the tower down proper, if he could revisit the place of his birth and childhood. It deserved a rest in peace, as the mages who had lived in it did not.

“Was that all you had to tell me?” Now that his mind was made up about their imminent journey, Nortrom bitterly remembered how unwanted he had been at Kael’s side and in his bed. He was a patient lover, but even he had emotions that could be hurt.

 

“Indeed.” Kael turned from the window. More letters burned, while a few winged up in the forms of papery little birds that trailed behind Kael. These would be saved for later perusal, when he had perhaps less to do. The carriage needed to be brought out and Kael needed to recall where exactly the Cabal was. He stopped by Nortrom, though, as his normal flow of thoughts were interrupted by the little bump in the road.

How long had passed since he told Nortrom to go? Couldn’t have been all that long - a few days and nights, probably, barely anything. Just a week. Hardly any time had passed.

He pushed up one thigh on an armrest, nudging closer to Nortrom. Aimless fingers pushed through his hair. “What did you do while I was busy?” Kael never had enough time for everything he wanted to do. It seemed to pass both quickly and slowly for him, as his mortal senses tried to conflate the passage of a thousand years as something immense when all his other memories told him it had barely been a grain of sand in the hourglass of his life.

 

Almost, Kael had cut deeply, but his senses seemed to be his saving grace, because he stopped by Nortrom long enough to give him the attention the poor elf had been waiting for ever since the forge spirit summoned him.

He leaned towards Kael. 

“Learned a martial art. Put every battlemage on the islands to shame. Nothing important.” He didn’t need to share his experiences, that had never been what it was about. Kael simply acknowledging he existed assuaged him, assured him he was not out of the Invoker’s mind just yet.

Not yet.

 

“Tell me more,” Kael prompted. He could come down from his studies long enough to see what Nortrom was up to. The passage of time wasn’t so cleanly delineated here as it was in the war - Kael needed to remember that. As easy as it was to get lost in the flow of it, he still had another subject that he wanted to keep his eye on. Nortrom would extinguish long before the stars ever would.

“I am always pleased to see what delightful things you have been up to.”

The sky no longer held his eyes, and Kael’s gaze turned on Nortrom again. He cupped his neck, thumb on his pulse to feel the agreeable warmth there and, the part that he liked less, the deadly heart beat that marched him beyond Kael one step at a time. 

 

“Kael...You do not need to bother yourself with them, your acknowledgement is quite enough. Combative arts are not what interests you.” Nortrom took a palm and kissed it, fully aware that Kael was being kinder than usual, when he would brush off the topic of Nortrom’s daily activities. Mind you, here, he had more options than reading as he had back in the tower.

“It is not my physical prowess and experience that hold your fascination, as I know well.”

 

“No,” he admitted freely, “but hearing about how you thrashed fools does.”

It did more than pique his interest, as they both knew now. A shared victory in battle were the cause of the days Kael was the most hungry for Nortrom. Even hearing about it pleased in him some innate, nonsensical way. Nortrom would be only second best to Kael himself, and tower above all others. That was merely how nature  _ worked _ .

He accepted the kiss graciously, then a wicked thought formed. His hand lingered near Nortrom’s mouth but his thumb pressed down on his bottom lip. His nail caught on the soft skin, and Kael tilted his head as if he were examining an uncommon set of data.

“Wherever did you hear that? I am fond of both your  _ physicality _ and your  _ experience _ .”

 

“That is not what I meant,” Kael might as well have continued to play with his fire, because his every touch had Nortrom’s undivided attention and scorched his skin with rampant desires, suppressed only by a strong will. Nortrom didn’t want to seem obnoxious, certainly not.

He looked up at Kael, gaze soft, admiring, devoted. The irritation from being ignored for a week dissipated like droplets of water on hot iron. All that mattered was Kael, here, close to him again and willing to touch and speak with him. Nortrom didn’t know when he’d become so humble in his desires from a lover, but Kael eclipsed any selfish thoughts with pure radiance.

“There is no elegance to stories of physical violence. I prefer to hear history, or flights of fancy.”

 

“History loses its lustre once you witness it, and flights of fancy are wastes of time.” Kael pulled away and straightened Nortrom’s collar with an almost fussy motion, before smoothing down the fabric. “There will be more time to talk when we travel. Let us go down before the sun sets entirely.”


	16. Chapter 16

Their departure was as swift as their arrival. Kael hated spending time on farewells so he didn’t bother with any - the carriage was pulled out from the basement it’d been stored in, the lodestone was inserted, and the spirits lifted it away within the hour.

The king and headmaster could be as offended as they wanted. They would be dead the next time Kael came back.

Once ensconced in the private luxury of the carriage, Kael set up his maps in order so he could pin down the last location of the Cabal. He would be able to track it from the magical residue, given time, and a visual guide made it all much quicker. That way, they would not have to wander around the vast Hazhadal Desert to find the mage caravan.

He was putting the map up manually, slapping away any attempts to help from the carriage, and huffed before turning back to his job. Silver pins kept the parchment up… it was just this… last… corner… giving him  _ trouble _ !

“Infelicitous,” Kael hissed when the shake persisted. He fumbled the pin but the carriage knew better to help when  _ it _ afflicted him. Not too often, not always, not noticeable - but  _ there _ .

 

Nortrom had not minded their sudden departure. The only company he wanted to keep, the only person he wished to exchange greetings and farewells with was the one he traveled with. The solitude and arrogance of their comings and goings suited him just fine. They wouldn’t be missed, and he wouldn’t miss the island’s tepid population.

He’d been dozing when Kael spread the maps out. Usually, his lover spent several hours tracing back and forth on the blank divisions between the lands. He didn’t need to write anything on the parchment, since he knew every line and every name perfectly.

Nortrom did not, and he would not ask Kael to explain or something arbitrary like that.

The curse from the familiar lips however woke him fully. 

Kael was bent over the maps, but they weren’t perfectly straight. Nor was the Invoker flattening the parchment with the casual use of a quiet spell.

His hands. 

Nortrom saw it right away, if only because he spent months now, watching the Invoker every day. Watched him move, watched him sleep. And never before had he seen this tremor in the delicate limbs. It clearly wasn’t wanted, given Kael’s expression.

But the limb remained disobedient.

Nortrom watched for another moment. Perhaps the carriage, just as the tower, would silently pick up what was wrong. But there was a deliberate silence of motion and magic around Kael.

He crossed it with defiance and covered Kael's hand with his own, bringing it away from the map and to his lips instead. The limb, it was ragged with the flow of magic. He could feel it, taste it. He kissed each digit, slowly.

 

Every so often, his body  _ dared _ betray him. These blasted, damned tremors afflicted him through the years, not removable even by his overwhelming intellect and prowess. Spells and tonics had only made the thing worse, until his hands shook so badly that he dropped anything he tried to hold. Even his grip was gone. Tensing up let the shake become a twitch instead, which was still unbearable.

Kael could feel the reason behind his shakes. More mistakes and foibles of his youth, exaggerated over time. The constant wear of magic required great many sacrifices - body, mind, and soul. His magic, great and wonderful as it was, was also the very thing that’d torn up his hands until they shook at the worst moments.

“Leave -!” he hissed when he realized his weakness had been witnessed. He’d kept this to himself for so long. He’d concealed the shaking with his large sleeves, and let none see the tremble that threatened to make him miscast. Letting Nortrom see it, showing him this - this disgusting, revolting frailty…!

“Just leave it be,” Kael said tightly, “It will pass.” The affliction wasn’t meant to be seen or known. None could look upon it, least of all Nortrom.

 

Nortrom smoothly ignored Kael's objections. Of course he wouldn't want him to see this imperfection, this flaw.

It made Kael all the more beautiful, but the Silencer kept it to himself. Kael wouldn't want to hear how a crack in his gorgeous facade only served to make his reflection even brighter. Nortrom loved every inch of him, and he wished he could make the Invoker feel the flames his heart suffered in at the mere thought of him.

Again, he kissed each slim finger, this time whispering the softest curse he could onto them. It wouldn't hurt his lover in the slightest, but it would eat at the clinging, cloying magic that had Kael's hands so eroded. 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Stop,” Kael gasped out, humiliated. Nothing shook him as this did - this was not meant to be witnessed. He would’ve torn his hands out of Nortrom’s gentle grip in an outraged fury if it weren’t for the sudden feeling of dead weight in his fingers. They traveled up, through his traitorous flesh and bones, until the shakes slowly began to calm, little by little.

It was not a fast, easy process, but Kael could feel the harsh magic that’d been making the tremors run dissipate - or, rather, be silenced.

He stared at his fingers, and noted how they were still once again. His precision was back, as was his control.

“...no,” Kael said, finally. He flexed his hand, feeling the peculiar sensation of silencing magic weighing it down. Yet it wasn’t like the discomfort of having the spell  _ on _ him. It felt.. Confined. Restricted.

“Did you silence my magic?”

 

“Only the parts that were disobedient,” Nortrom relinquished the hand, hoping it had eased what he could. Kael’s displeasure was palpable, and part of him cringed for having done something unbidden and using his talent on his lover without prior agreement.

But the tremor of those hands...Kael had looked distraught. Nortrom never wanted to hear him curse himself for some flaw, however tiny and trivial it was.

“I can apply it to very, very small amounts of magic, if I concentrate.”

 

Kael stared at him searchingly. He’d successfully hidden the flaw from Nortrom for as long as they knew each other - all until now. And now Nortrom showed him a way to stop the shaking. The tremor of his magic had been muffled and, with it, the waver of his hands. Even held up, they remained in place.

His silence. Of course. The curious form of magic that seemed designed to trump all over forms of magic. It did not stop Kael from using magic now - he could sense it all around them still - it was merely his hands that became inert. It was no significant loss compared to the ultimate net gain of  _ stopping the tremor _ .

Kael stepped away from the map, and that was all the permission that the carriage needed to clean up the mess. The pin was swallowed up by the carpet and the map was firmly held up against the wall. Kael’s cartography pens and compasses were placed on a cushion, ready if he wanted to start working.

But, right now, his attention had been diverted.

His eyes continued to trail over Nortrom’s face. He looked at him -  _ really _ looked at him. Nortrom didn’t seem proud of his accomplishment. He looked as if he realized how unwelcome his startling move was, and a little regretful of having done what he had. Not entirely, just a fraction.

The outrage trickled away like ice in spring.

His hands - his still, solid, controlled hands - slid up around the back of Nortrom’s neck, up into his hair, and fisted the black strands to hold him still. Kael pressed himself flush against his lover’s firm chest, so close that he could feel the warmth from him on every inch of his glorious body, and pulled him down into a kiss.

They’d shared kisses before. Many different kinds of kissing, from chaste fond ones in the morning, to the passionately haphazard ones in the night. There were also the sneaked rebellious kisses in the battlefield from when they were still enemies and, perhaps the very best of all, the slower sleepier ones that happened when they both had orgasmed. Surprisingly, Kael was the one who initiated the most kisses between them. He liked some element of the brief contact and how it could be changed to say anything.

This particular kiss was deep from the start, as Kael pulled down Nortrom to  _ his _ level and seemed intent on plundering whatever he could get. He pushed up into it with an eager, searing kind of motivation, conveying his wordless thanks through the lingering kiss that went on until they both had to breathe. 

 

Nortrom had been quite sure Kael would be furious to have even a fraction of his magic silenced and sealed, even if it was to the benefit of his control. Or maybe that the mage turn away, coldly disappointed that Nortrom had dared to notice a flaw in him.

But this kiss implied otherwise, and Nortrom accepted it gladly. Gratitude from Kael was a rare, rare thing, and it wasn’t necessary for this. Nortrom had simply eased his tremor, not fulfilled some great task. Nevertheless, he wrapped his arms around Kael’s shoulders and kept him close, his kiss soft and persistent and full of adoring warmth. This elf, he was becoming his sun, moon and stars. Everything else in his life had taken secondary position, his love for Kael a stranglehold he didn’t want to escape from.

 

“We will begin with the process of me learning how to silence,” Kael said after they drew apart. He still remained close to Nortrom, leaning into him for support. “I had not considered this application of your magic until now.”

He wasn’t sure when the tremor would pass. Nortrom’s silences never stayed for long - though Kael knew he could make them stay forever, if he wanted. He did not worry that Nortrom might do the same. His magic could never be stifled for long.

“Take me to bed.” He was in no mood for mapping out anything now. They still had a day to go until the carriage found the mainland, so he could put it off.

 

“Your wish is my command.” Nortrom knew that if Kael had decided on bed, there’d be no alternative. Not that he wanted one. After all the neglect of the last week, he had a keen ache in his body for Kael’s company, and a yearning to touch and hold him as he did now. It was easy enough to lift the mage into his arms, the bed not far off and a short journey.

Once he deposited the Invoker, Nortrom rand his hands over the silenced digits again. They shouldn’t feel numb, or heavy, not with the mild curse he’d given them. He kissed each finger once more before he trailed up one arm and to Kael’s shoulder, leaving reverent kisses in his wake.

“I would be lying if I said I had not missed your attentions.”

 

Kael unbuttoned his robe one-handed, watching the passing clouds through the window. The arm Nortrom had taken over lay limp and open for the kisses he pressed down like miniature prayers.

“I left you for only a week,” Kael said, “trifles in the expanse of my life.”

It wasn’t exactly a dismissal - just a mild reproach. No one thing could take over all his attention, no matter how taken he was with it. There were always other things. “You can handle your own time - especially when I have matters that take precedence over you. Even  _ my _ generous patience has its limits, Nortrom.”

With Nortrom constantly crowding his periphery, how was Kael meant to concentrate on any one thing? Being drawn back to his indulgences - his affection, their bed, the adoration he poured on - over and over would ruin the novelty of it. No, no. He needed time to focus. Nortrom was a desirous distraction, even more so when Kael felt the urge to revel in his undiluted reverence.

 

Did it? Nortrom wondered if Kael’s patience and indulgence for him would, eventually, run dry. What he would do then to hold the Invoker’s attention, he wasn’t sure of. Something spectacular would be necessary to regain Kael’s inclination towards him, surely. He continued to kiss his lover’s neck and jaw, fingers soft in golden hair. 

That was a worry for later, not now. Kael deserved his undivided attention and affection. It had been an entire week. Nortrom would require double that time to make up for it.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

He settled down, arms still around the mage, face bowed into his shoulder, heaving a sigh. He’d be content if Kael simply let him be at his side every night.

 

It was good that Nortrom did not try to reach for anything more. Kael wasn’t in the mood for such things. He rolled onto his side, facing the window and his back to Nortrom. The strangeness of his hands were still there - he would have to study this, and begin to learn from Nortrom in earnest. The initial testing phase was done and now, all they had left was for Kael to begin his mastery. With that, he might be able to quell the irritating shaking before it ever began.

His form would be perfect. He would not be held back.

Kael went to sleep an hour later, thoughts still whirling with what new things he could study and what further use he could extract from Nortrom. Around them, the carriage creaked and sighed as it sailed through the still night air.

 

Nortrom’s sleep was filled with unease when it finally took him. The Aeol Drias woke bad memories in him. Solitary weeks spent in a small, dark room, the incantations for a simple spell plastered on the ground. Darkness and hunger had not coaxed Nortrom’s magic forth, and neither had the lashes.

The closer the carriage got to his home, the more fitful Nortrom’s rest, until he simply decided to stay awake and watch Kael sleep, which was infinitely more soothing than his nightmares. He’d destroy the tower, and the Knights, and be done with all of it. If the Cabal interfered, he would destroy them too. 

Kael wouldn’t care, even if the Cabal seemed to admire him as their leader. Kael was much too absorbed by his own goals to give thought to others, and that was just fine. Nortrom spent hours simply stroking his lover’s hair and side, keeping to his own thoughts.

 

Kael woke when it was still night. It didn’t feel like one of his impressively long sleeps - it must still be the same day - or night, technically - then. His sleep schedule had always been erratic. It didn’t look like the sun was due to rise anytime soon. Had he even managed two or three hours?

The susurration of the winds at this altitude could be heard through the walls of the carriage. It probably was incredibly cold out too, though it was kept at bay by magic. Kael listened to it, eyes still closed, hand pressed to the sheets so he could sense the way the magic of the lodestone pulsed. It was an echo of his own, imprinted after spending so many years in his possession. It wasn’t anything he made - actually taken from a mage he’d killed when he’d still been mortal. If he reached out, he would be able to feel the magical echoes of the spirits he’d permanently leashed to the carriage and the magic that was inherent in the world - from other dimensions, from the tiny particles of wind and cloud.

And there. Behind him.

Nortrom felt like a void. Not an abyss - not uncomfortable in the way absolute vacuums were. When he wasn’t actively using his silence, his presence was merely like a muffler of sorts. His presence dampened magic around him. At least he was no passive mana drainer - Kael would have likely never approached him if he was such a leech. Just… empty, though there was no desire to be filled in the nature of his magic.

_ The possibility of a whole new field of study _ , Kael had called him.  _ Magic’s mutative wonder. _ If there was any proof that magic was an adaptive creature that constantly entered new permutations, then Nortrom was it.

A void.  _ His _ void. Kael had never meant to let him into his bed, starting out. Nortrom had been… a curiosity. Something that fuelled his mind in search of answers and theories for  _ why _ and  _ how _ and  _ what _ . But then he’d been more and more interesting, and Kael’s sudden arousal after he rejected the Anti-Mage demanded satiation. After that, it’d been… well, history.

Kael rolled onto his back. The warmth coming from his bedmate made the sheets entirely unsuitable and he kicked them off to the side. His under-robe was also troublesome and a pointed thought at the carriage made the magic hasten to remove it. He ignored Nortrom as he undressed, preferring the ponderous silence that the lack of illumination gave to the carriage, and only turned to him once he was bare. There was no worry about being chilled when he had Nortrom.

But he would not always be here. That short lifespan of his would snuff out and Kael would endure beyond him, beyond whatever children Nortrom may ever sire, and beyond their descendents as well. He would remain, immutable and incontrovertible, long past even the memory of Nortrom, the Silencer.

Past his own memory, possibly.

He’d forgotten other lovers before. Just as he’d let go of his past and of whatever family and friends he might’ve had, he’d let go of many people who’d earned a place at his side. Scores of them were lost - beyond both history and Kael’s own memory - and the pang of pain at the thought of them he used to feel had also departed. Most of them had been foolish anyway. Many had demanded the secret behind his immortality. More wanted his power. His support. So few of them had understood that Kael was beyond all those petty struggles. So many had been resentful in their bitter, dying ends when they finally grasped the many different levels of existence that separated they from Kael’s sublimity.

Nortrom belonged to that delicate and strange subset of mortals who did not demand such things. He was strange like that. How many years had it been since Kael met someone like that? A thousand? Two? Certainly a long time, if he could strain his mind to the memory of it.

He would die anyway. And Kael would meet another. And another. More and more of his selfish, vain points of light who believed themselves to be more because his eyes swung in their directions. And then more, and more, and more… someday he might meet someone like Nortrom again. When or where or how, he did not know. Whether he ever would, he also did not know. 

For some reason, that idea was not agreeable.

But that was fine. All Kael had to do was…  _ forget _ .

Whatever he had now was… pleasant. Terribly predictable, unfortunately, as all things were. They met, they stayed, they loved, and they died. Predictable, yet never boring. It was the one historical pattern that Kael could not divorce himself from. For reasons he never bothered studying, he always returned to this singular pattern of behavior.

Poor, dear Nortrom. He’d never said it to Kael’s face, but Kael knew it. He needed no truth potions, no confessions, no questions asked… to love Kael was inevitable.

Kael rose up to his elbows, then pushed at Nortrom’s shoulder until he was made to get on his back. Blonde hair, turned silvery in the light of the pale moon, streamed down Nortrom’s chest as Kael lay on his chest, expression gravely thoughtful despite the intimacy.

“You love me,” Kael said - not as a question, but as statement of fact.

 

When Kael had begun to move, kicking the blankets aside and using his body for warmth, Nortrom gave up on pretending that he could find sleep. Instead, he watched the elf position himself, aligning his body with his. The difference in their skin temperature was minimal now after such a lengthy time of Nortrom warming Kael’s body.

Like this, he could watch his face, his beautiful hair framing what was already beyond flawless. His heart gave sick little beats, the poison of love spreading through him as warmly as sunshine. Kael was everything, and Nortrom didn’t regret giving up his life to travel with the mage. His presence filled his senses, his being every one of Nortrom’s thoughts. He was consumed by all things, the history, the skill, the memories of an immortal. Kael was an unending subject of intrigue for the Silencer and he could never learn all of him, the way he might of someone his own age and lifespan.

Kael’s voice ended the silence and Nortrom was painfully aware of how factual his statement had been. He’d been right; Kael knew without a word of confession out of the Silencer.

“I do,” he answered in full agreement, wondering what the purpose of this was.

 

“It is foolish.” Kael and Nortrom both knew about the stark differences between their relative lifespans. Nortrom, by loving Kael, would never know what love with someone who might be able to love him back would be like. It was further proof to Kael about his own inexorably attractive nature, but it was also a subject of speculative curiosity. Like… watching moths fly into a torch or lemmings leaping off ledges, and theorizing why.

He folded his arms under his head so he could watch Nortrom’s face easier. “You must realize that?”

 

“Is it foolish?” 

Of course it was, when one looked at it as an exchange of sorts. Love for the sake of being loved should come with the reward of reciprocation. Love for another as an equal partner should bring you happiness in being with someone and knowing you mean to them what they are to you. Nortrom understood the basics of love, and what people perceived of it. But nothing of that caliber applied to this situation. He was a temporary measure of interest to Kael at best. He was a distraction for a time, nothing more, nothing less.

“I am not delusional, Kael. My love for you is mine alone, and it will not change my fate or future. But how can I not? Why should I not? I lose nothing by it.”

 

“I will not and do not love you back,” Kael continued calmly. “Once you die and a century passes, I will forget you in every sense except for the knowledge of your magic and your armor.”

His fingernails tapped out a staccato on Nortrom’s collarbone. “You mortals always want more. You will lose your years and any hope of finding someone else with your choices, and you will think that makes you deserving of reciprocation from me. You believe that your sacrifices warrant equivalent exchange on my part.”

A cloud passed over the moon, and the carriage was swiftly filled with darkness. Only Kael’s eyes were visible, glowing with the vibrancy of his magic. His voice came from nowhere, and everywhere. “You are only ever mortal, Nortrom, and nothing more.”

 

“As I am well aware.” Nortrom remained calm. He didn’t know what Kael was intending to do. Make him reconsider his choice to be at the Invoker’s side? Did Kael think this was a kindness, to remind Nortrom that he could find love with another mortal and live an ordinary life? Did he think that Nortrom could ever forget the Invoker, or how he felt about him?

Perhaps this was a test of his devoutness to his lover.

“I do not expect your love. I am grateful for your attention, and that you allow me a sliver of your time. I don’t know who has lead you to believe that I expect more from you. I do not. And as long as I am able, I will follow you. If I could forget you, I would not choose to.”

 

The sobriety was lifted by a small, deprecating smile. “You are sweet,” Kael said as he laid back down, nestling closer to Nortrom, “even if you only convince yourself.”

Time would change him. Nortrom would shift and his loving devotion would inevitably devolve until he too grasped at the same desperate straws. Nothing in this world was certain. Nothing was permanent. Only Kael was, and it was just a matter of time until he watched Nortrom fall prey to the beast of time that lived within his chest. 

 

“I am the only one who needs convincing.”

 


	17. Chapter 17

Their journey was free of any more conversations such as that night, but it tucked itself into a corner of Nortrom’s mind, to be revisited at the most inopportune time. 

The wastes came with dryness in the air, and Nortrom felt his moods decline. The Knights were still in full force in the area and the impending meeting with the Cabal had him sullen. He wished he could convince Kael not to ally with them, to wipe them off of the face of the living with little to no effort instead.

But he would have no such luck, and Kael did not change his mind according to his wishes. He had no choice but to meet the Cabal, personally, because they were as eager as most mortals to behold the ancient immortal, the Invoker himself.

 

It was on the fourth day that their carriage touched down in the Hazhadal Barrens. It was night when they descended and the desert was appropriately cool upon arrival. The map glowed, showing the little marker that indicated where the Cabal was and, true to form, they could see the massive bonfire that went on below and the series of tents that belonged to the roving guild.

“They are migratory,” Kael had explained earlier to Nortrom, “once, they used to live in a permanent settlement near the Skytower, but moved shortly after Aeol Drias was decimated. There is safety in numbers and when lacking that, safety in movement.”

The carriage stopped a short distance away from the main camp but mages trickled out of their tents, one by one, to stare at it when it was still aloft. Only when it was grounded did someone wearing more intricate robes than the rest come to the front of the crowd.

Kael adjusted the robes of the Burning Cabal a touch imperiously before the doors opened, and a visible ripple went through the crowd. The bodies all went down to bow in a wave, and the man in the front, the Torchbearer, bowed the lowest until his forehead touched the sands.

“Scion of the Sun!” his voice went up in a reedy shout, and was echoed by the mages behind him. “Our bright and glorious leader, the eternal flame! We are blessed to see you descend for us. Do you answer our plea for help and come to guide us in this dark hour?”

Kael swept his eyes over the crowd, looking approving when he saw the appropriate levels of awe, and looked down at the man scraping at his feet. “Indeed I have come,” he said, “to see what has happened to my Cabal. My time here shall not be wasted.”

“Never, never,” the man stood up slowly, “we only ask for the honor of our gloried leader’s assistance as there was no other way. We would never seek to waste your valued attention on anything less.”

Kael let him sweat for a few moments before nodding primly. “As it should be, Torchbearer. Lead us into your camp so that we may talk further.”

“As you wish, Scion.”

In one motion, the crowd parted for them. There was a variety of different figures in the crowd - elves, humans, even one or two trolls, identifiable by their jutting teeth. The only thing that united their disparate natures was the same rough red robes they wore, and their simultaneously awed and hungry eyes on the Invoker. Their ageless leader, only spoken of for so many years, had finally returned to them. A few hands rose to try to touch the elf as he passed by, but were hastily pushed down by the mage standing next to them, even if they looked like they wanted to do the same.

More glanced at the Silencer when he came to stand by Kael’s side. They were curious, intense - even vaguely jealous. Who was this stranger who had the privilege of traveling with  _ their _ leader?

 

Nortrom tried to pay no mind, truly he did. But when a crowd of eager faces needled his every move, he could not help but puff his chest out, walk a little closer, make it more obvious he knew he belonged at Kael’s side.

The stench of magic was overwhelming. He wanted to pinch his nose and leave. It wasn’t the refined, controlled burn of spells and such. It was unrefined, aggressively dominant magic, the worst to run free in the hands of mages with no morals.

Taking Kael’s hand was outside of the realm of possibility, but Nortrom made sure to send some scathing glances at those crowded closest. He had earned his spot. None of these creatures could so much as glare at him for where he was and with whom.

But all of this simply reaffirmed his belief that the Cabal’s days were numbered; they were hardly worth Kael’s attention in the first place. 

Maybe one day someone would recognize him. Maybe someone would right now; he let his suppressive presence flare out, let the mages feel a little of the void.

 

Kael felt the void in Nortrom fluctuate, but his expression did not change. It was much harsher on the battlefield, normally, so this little change hardly affected him. The mages of the Cabal, however, flinched and recoiled at the feeling of the foreign magic. Whispers broke out as they began to realize who this was.

Among them were a few dregs of Aeol Drias - more specifically, of the magicless generation that had been the final line of their pedigree. They knew the void better than anyone else and cringed back in horror. Only their reverence at Kael’s presence kept them quiet, though they spoke once he passed.

Kael took no notice of this. As soon as they traveled to the center of the tents, to the largest and grandest one and sat, did he speak. “Tell me of the Archronicus and how you know the Knights to hold it.”

“It was  _ seen _ ,” the Torchbearer explained, “the vultures came to pick at the pieces of our long beloved ally, Aeol Drias, and they stole the tome from within the Skytower. We arrived too late to save the arcane tome and our strength was too limited to retrieve it for many years.”

Nortrom felt vindication tug at his passive expression, but he didn't allow it to change the tight, downward curve of his mouth. 

They should fear him, these fools. He may not look the same, or bear the armor taken after his bloody victory, but he was still the Silencer, and his talents were a horror to mages everywhere. This Cabal should know their executioner awaited. Patiently.

As the Cabal mages explained the circumstances of their precious book, Nortrom had a vivid memory of himself, deciding whether or not he wanted to shred the tower or leave its arcane library intact. Blood-covered, young and angry, he had ascended those stairs, destruction and vengeance on his mind. 

He spoke out of turn, ignoring the scandalized expressions of the mages.

"You failed to even lessen the numbers of the Knights? What good are you then?"

 

The Torchbearer shot Nortrom a angry look. “Our efforts were thwarted by the inopportune destruction of Aeol Drias by their  _ very _ own. The Knights would have been destroyed if our ally was not betrayed!”

It seemed that the growing elephant in the room could no longer be ignored. “Scion!” the Torchbearer cried as he stood, “the very creature that brought ruin to Aeol Drias sits among us,  _ mocks _ us. He is an affront to magic itself - a creature that should not exist. Please, we beg of you, smite the creature that would see the Knights succeed in their heinous goals for our -”

“Silence.”

The impassioned plea was cut short when Kael interrupted it. He hadn’t moved, but his reagents glowed bright with an incantation.

“Aeol Drias’ destruction was brought by their own incurable stupidity. Take care to make it so that the Cabal does not stumble down the same path, Torchbearer.”

The mage shut up, pale. His eyes flicked between Kael and Nortrom, as if trying understand.

 

Nortrom gave the Torchbearer a small smile that was filled to the brim with nasty intention. He knew where the scion’s priorities lay, and he also knew which one of the two of them lay with the scion. Oh he would end this Cabal, should Kael make even the smallest indication that they were expendable.

He would sit here, and he would mock them until they turned blue in the face in the meantime.

“Does my presence scare you so, esteemed mage?”

Kael may be preoccupied with the matter at hand, but Nortrom had all the time in the world to mock these would be fanatics.

 

There would be no support for the floundering mage from Kael’s end. He looked entirely serene through the pissing match ongoing between the Cabal and Nortrom, even a little bored.

“Scion,” the Torchbearer tried, but Kael cut him off.

“I will retrieve the Archronicus with or without you. In the meantime, do not try and make Nortrom’s offer of wiping you out become more tempting.”

The Torchbearer’s eyes bugged out and he looked ready to protest before thinking better of it and deflating. He sat down. “After Aeol Drias fell, our numbers were much less than that of the Knights. We lost our settlement and began to move as we planned for our hopeful return in strength. A sickness passed through, and many mages died. More concerningly, we believe the Knights to wield Nemesis Stones.”

“Oh?”

“The Archronicus detailed these arcane weapons, and Aeol Drias told us. The Nemesis Stones taint their surroundings and warp minds. The Knights use them in their weapons and prolonged interaction with them risks enslavement to their twisted ideals. We had to move for our own mental safety.”

A Nemesis Stone. Things were only growing more interesting.

“So you wish for my help to further your goals.”

“No, Scion, never! We search knowledge, as you do, and it is our earnest goal to beat back the Knights, who only seek to convert others to their heinous religion and follow Obelis, the Radiant Ancient who has overtaken so much of the land.”

Ah. Yes. Kael knew of this theory and had shielded himself appropriately long before knowledge of the Stones became widespread. Many of the heroes on either side were ignorant of the ‘call’ the Ancients emitted for new soldiers, but Kael was resistant. Likely Nortrom was too, thanks to his magical nullness.

“We would take back the Archronicus -”

“ _ We _ ?” His question cut through the Torchbearer’s growing rant, and the man stopped, looking confused.

“...you - Scion, you are here to lead us.”

“I am here to retrieve the Archronicus, and investigate the Nemesis Stones. It is only residual memories that make me come to enable your survival against the Knights.” There was no question that Kael could probably take the tome and Stones and leave without doing anything further. The Cabal seemed to realize this and the Torchbearer deflated further.

“Your guidance -”

“- is temporary.” Kael stood up, looking more bored with each passing minute. When had his Cabal fallen so  _ low _ ? “I have heard enough. I will send you a message once I was have determined what will be done. Until then, do not bother.”

With that, he left the stunned Cabal still sitting around the bonfire.

 

Nortrom didn’t to go any further with his words against the Cabal. They only now gained their clear understanding of where they stood in the world and Kael’s presence. Fools. Nortrom didn’t pity them.

He followed Kael, a little vindictive, a little contemplative. What were Nemesis Stones, and why did they matter? The Radiant Ancient’s call, he remembered well. It had been a bittersweet notion to fight for it, considering the Knights and their rabid worship of the large, glittering rock.

Kael clearly knew what they were. Kael knew everything there was to know, so it came as no surprise. Yet Nortrom wondered how many untold secrets he’d never know the existence of, simply because Kael’s hoarding of knowledge only served him, in the end of things.

“Kael,” his voice was soft for the Invoker, “what are the Nemesis Stones?”

 

Kael waited until they were some distance away from the camp before speaking. Knowledge of the Nemesis Stones wasn’t  _ hidden _ , per se, but it was still a somewhat sensitive topic to be speaking of in the open. 

“How much do you know of the Ancients?” he asked, but then did not give Nortrom any time to answer. “Actually, no. I will simply explain it all.”

“The Ancients are not of this earth. They originate from the heavens as ancient beings that fell down and landed here once the moon that kept them bound shattered. Their falling was accompanied by shards called the Nemesis Stones - magical shards of their forms that corrupt and warp the land around them. These things emit the magical energy that makes ordinary mortals the creeps, and compel the slightly stronger ones to fight in their senseless war.”

He remembered the shattering. It was one of the few memories of his mortal days that he kept in respect to the immensity of the cataclysm that befell the world afterwards. In those same destroyed and harsh environments he’d grown up and started down the path to become who he was today.

“There have been many fools who thought to harness the power of the Stones but became thralls to it instead. The Knights are one of them - likely they came into contact with a Radiant Stone and it tainted their minds until they conflate their Obelis with the Radiant Ancient, and seek to serve it. Their violent conversions and crusade against those left untouched by the Stones’ influence is so that they do the work the Ancients cannot outside of the battlefield. The Torchbearer seems to believe that the Knights are using weapons forged by - or are decorated with - Nemesis Stones and are reluctant to fight them openly lest they be warped as well. Of course, they were right in reaching out to me. I was present to see that moon fall to our planet and I made sure to keep myself resistant to it - if there is anyone who can fight the Knights and give them resistance to the Stones, it would be  _ me _ .”

Not that he  _ would _ . Or if he wanted. Maybe if they scraped a little more. Certainly the value of a few Cabal members would rise if they mutated into creeps.

“The Archronicus recorded that information, which is where Aeol Drias got it from, and they are where the Cabal got  _ that _ information.” 

 

“I wonder how an order as crude as the Aeol Drias managed to keep the Archronicus at all.” Nortrom dismissed the dilemma of knowing the Ancients were actively influencing the heroes he knew. Even his friends. Now, outside of the battlefield and far from the war, he felt no compelling power to return to it, when he had been eager before.

The order that bred him was not particularly high on his list of reputable organisations. In fact, he had yet to find a single shroud of evidence that they were, in fact, worthy of respect at all.

“Their efforts may have produced me, but their methods were intolerable. I will not regret their extinction.”

 

“The Archronicus is not  _ kept _ . It travels - how and why, no one knows. It merely appears at the place where history is being made and notes it down before being lost in time again. Mayhaps it stayed with Aeol Drias because of  _ you _ .”

He didn’t intend to stay here for very long, so the tower would have to remain unmade. The carriage was perfectly fine - if smaller - and could mobilize faster. Kael had no desire to stay here, amid wasted steppes and small-time mages, for very long. He walked to the carriage, ignoring their watchers who peered at them through night.

“It is likely you will run into your former order members. What will you do?”

 

“As I have done with the ones that came before them, should they cross me.” Nortrom locked the small comment on the book staying in his presence away to marvel at later. Kael had a way with unintentional compliments that made for impressions with Nortrom. Maybe just him though.

“I would also see to the destruction of the Skytower, if they or the Cabal have infested it. I once thought it my home, and perhaps I would do so again, but I will not have anything tarnish what I claim.”

 

“I will accompany you to the Skytower. Perhaps some dregs of magic remain there where the scavengers cannot reach. Magical homes tend to have many secrets within every nook and cranny, and the small-minded easily miss things when it is not posted before them in neon coloration, begging for notice.” The door opened for them and Kael stepped into it. Light and food were waiting for them, courtesy of the carriage, with all the soft decoration swept to the side for later use. “You think to return to the Skytower?”

He saw no reason why. It was a dilapidated ruin in the middle of nowhere, barely worth its use or location. Why would Nortrom go  _ there _ when he had so many better things  _ here _ ? “The Skytower is  _ hardly _ comparable to mine own, unless you are in the mood to  _ downgrade _ .”

 

“I did not mean to return whilst in your presence, Kael,” he assuaged. Nortrom was no foolish simpleton. After reading what had happened with Indra, he saw it best to prepare for the possibility of Kael tiring of his company. What would he do then? Break down? Most certainly, but perhaps in a more private setting than some forsaken town in the middle of nowhere.

“I have no intentions of denying myself the comforts your tower provides. It has a certain personality I find...charming.”

 

A cushion scooted closer to Nortrom’s leg and cuddled against it like an overbearing cat, wiggling as if pleased by his praise. Kael snorted.

“The lodestone has grown eccentric with age. I may have to replace it if it continues to be familiar.” He had no such intentions, but it was good to keep it on its toes. If he  _ did _ replace it, it would be with something of his own make, stronger and better. There was the question of what to do with the old one, but maybe he could give it to someone. Nortrom, perhaps, if he persisted with his fascination with towers.

“Now - speak plainly. What thoughts have you of the Burning Cabal?”

 

Nortrom petted the cushion, fully aware that the tower in all of its little quirks was fond him and he of it. If Kael was to replace the Lodestone, he’d gladly offer up himself to keep the old one. It had become almost a friend. Maybe he needed to affirm his friendships with real people, but given the choice of a social life and Kael, he'd rather be with Kael.

"The Cabal irks me. They seem desperate and weak, clinging to you as their scion and leader when they should be accomplishing things on their own, in honor of your leadership. How can they even claim to have anything to do with you, when they cannot stand on their own two feet and tremble in my presence? The Cabal isn't worthy of you. I would see it destroyed, if it weren't for your involvement."

 

Nortrom wasn’t wrong. The Cabal  _ did _ seem diminished from its early days as persecuted mages looking for a safe haven besides the most powerful mage in the vicinity. They were no longer knowledge hunters or innovators - just a mere shadow of the people Kael had known and left behind.

He sighed. Just as things were born and rose high, some things were only waiting for death.

“They will drive themselves to extinction within two centuries,” Kael predicted morbidly. He ate his dinner thoughtfully, thinking about the Cabal that had started around him and the Cabal he saw now. A pale shadow, in every way. “Your involvement will only hasten destruction that is assured.”

The memory of the first Torchbearer came to mind. Her face was clearer in the pale sea because it accompanied the bright red robes she’d gifted, along with his title. An elf, with bright red hair and freckles. His younger self had called her a friend.

“It is unfortunate, in a sense. The original Torchbearer and the first mage to come to my side had been a bright elf who loved magic and sought to protect mages from the mage-fearing populace. She never wanted me to teach her or anything similar. I let the Cabal form because I wanted to see what she could do with it - and I was pleased with the results, and the prestige she brought to my name.”

The people he ended up liking the most were the ones who  _ knew _ what he was, but did not ask for more than the privilege of knowing him. The worst ones were the ones with their inflated senses of worth, making demands as if they deserved anything because he spat in their direction once.  _ She _ had known his power, respected it, but only stayed near him because he was strong enough to shield her from the harsher world, like a lizard in the lee of a boulder. Once she was powerful enough to stand on her own, she only asked to honor him for his original kindness.

He tried to recall her name, and found that he could not. He remembered smatters of her person - hair and freckles, fire affinitive magic, intelligent - but all else was lost to the blur of time. What he beheld in his memory was more like an effigy sculpted out of her most prominent qualities. Even his friends were no match to the march of time.

It disturbed him, when it had not for so many years.

_ Would the same happen to Nortrom? _

What qualities would Kael recall best? His magical void, certainly. Perhaps his toned body and the many delights it brought him. And everything else - the black hair, the blue eyes, the endearing personality - would be… what? Wiped out into the fog?

His appetite weakened as the same unsettled feeling, just stronger, descended again.

Why was he returning to these old thoughts? He’d tread this path before. Forgotten it too.

He shook it off.

“Leave them be.”

If the Cabal was destroyed, so would he lose yet another piece of that faded, long-dead elven mage.

 

“Would it not be better to finish their disgrace to her legacy?” Nortrom didn’t like the thought of someone else’s memory, projected and preserved by the rotten leagues of mages of the Burning Cabal. They should mean nothing to Kael.

And they would be nothing.

He didn’t make the decision consciously, but it was there in his mind nonetheless. The Burning Cabal would not survive his coming here. They’d simply have to fulfil their use to Kael first.

 

Kael afforded Nortrom a narrow eyed look, then dismissed it. He had little concern about Nortrom betraying him in any measure.

“I told you already: leave it.”


	18. Chapter 18

_ Elsewhere… _

_ “ _ We cannot trust that murderer!”

Unrest rippled through the Burning Cabal camp since the arrival of their long awaited Scion. His arrival had been a welcome miracle - the  _ other _ one's was not. None of them could comprehend why _ he _ should have the honor of being by their Scion’s side, or why their Scion  _ kept _ him around. He was a magical mistake and the destroyer of thousands of years of careful pruned legacy. He could be indirectly blamed for the continued and powerful presence of the Knights today, even. 

“He will impede our goals. He must be removed.”

The Torchbearer was silent amidst the arguments that'd broken out since the disastrous first meeting. He was deep in thought and the council that'd convened took that as permission to speak their minds. One of the more powerful mages, an elf named Fenn, was speaking. 

“You all saw how he was!” he said passionately, “Listened to how he spoke! He threatens us, degrades our good work. Our beloved Scion had brought both salvation and ruination with him - but we must endure it. We cannot stray from our original goal to destroy the Knights of the Fold and hold back the Ancients. Let us keep vigilant, but not be distracted.”

“He will bring our doom,” foretold another councilor - a heavy-tusked troll with greying hair, “he killed and sealed the magic of his own once - what is to say he will not turn on us?”

“Why  _ is _ he near the Scion anyway?” questioned another. Half-elven, half-human, born to a Burning Cabal sand mage and a former son of Aeol Drias, she was young, but had earned her place in the council early on. “Our Scion should have killed him!”

“How can we dictate the minds of walking gods?” Fenn replied. “Ismur, Maena, listen to reason. We cannot let ourselves be distracted by him when we are at such a critical point in our gloried mission. If we let ourselves bicker over his presence,  _ he _ might take it as insult.”

None of them had forgotten the way Scion had threatened them. It kept them at bay - if their leader thought the Silencer was permitted to stay, then they had no choice but to let it. No matter how much they internally suffered for it.

“Peace, peace,” the Torchbearer finally said, and the bickering ceased. They sat in respect to him rising. “I have listened to your wisdom. The attack on the Knights will go ahead as planned, and we will do our very best to keep our Scion with us. After he leads us to their destruction, we will handle the cursed creature.”

There were a few dark mutters, but no one actively opposed him. Ismur looked like he bit into a lemon, while Maena crossed her arms.

“He sealed my father’s magic.”

“Maena -” Fenn tried.

“No!” she burst, rounding on him. “He stole the magic of a whole generation! He ruined Aeol Drias! He stole the lives of the venerated elders and professors, then destroyed the magic of those he grew up with because he was a jealous, heartless, green-eyed creature with cursed magic! He deserves to die for what he -”

“Maena!” thundered the Torchbearer. He cracked his staff on the desert stone and she shut up immediately when fire licked up her leg. “No one here denies the Silencer’s crimes. But he is the Scion’s guest, and we will not shame our beloved leader by attacking him. Stand down, and cool off before you are permitted to come back.”

Maena gave him a rebellious look before storming away. Fire sparked around her hair as her magic threatened to spill over. She stomped away from the hot bonfire of the council in the direction of the golden carriage, intent on finding the very elf who’d taken away the magic of her father before she was born.

 

Inside of the carriage, nothing had disturbed the stillness. Not the noise of the Cabal outside, not even the hooting of an owl in a tree. Nortrom had accepted Kael’s judgement, if only for now. He may not see the threat of the Cabal, but the Silencer knew of the ways of unstable, greedy mages. They were only kept in bounds by the threat of the Knights, and once they were removed, the Cabal might take their place as the magical lords of this kingdom. Fools. He’d cut them down and revel in sealing their magic.

They would learn that the elf at Kael’s side was no mere guest. He’d be their doom and destruction, when the time was right.

Since his beloved seemed absorbed by thoughts of his magical book, Nortrom had slipped outside, if only to go through his usual routine. It wouldn’t do to let the mind expand and the body rust with age. There was good reason Kael got to enjoy the steeled muscle of his form, because Nortrom did not sink into cushions and only seek to grow more wise. He was still a warrior, the ultimate of battlemages. 

 

Maena was in a fury strong enough to propel her most of the way to the carriage, but she was stopped a good fifty meters away when an invisible barrier suddenly went up. The wards that Kael put up only went down when he expected visitors - otherwise, they held everyone back.

Maena pushed against the barrier at first, grunting when it felt like she was trying to heave aside the Bleeding Hills. It held fast even when her palms began to spit hot magic and then suddenly she lost her temper. Sparks flew from her hair like her head was the tail-end of a firecracker and she kicked the barrier viciously before immediately regretting it.

She squealed when it felt like she’d tried to kick a thornbush. The - the barrier had  _ retaliated _ . To be expected of the Scion of the Sun, though now it only fuelled her righteous anger as it continued to bar her way to the son of a bitch Silencer.

Maena punched the barrier, then made a noise akin to an angry mouse being stepped on when the barrier held.

 

Now this noise, Nortrom did hear, if only because he could also feel the fluctuation in the ward, the angry push back from the magic initially planted by Kael. It made him curious. Was someone trying to attack the Invoker, here in the midst of his Cabal? He pulled the glaive out of the tree, splintering the trunk as he did. Without shield and armor, he rounded the carriage, to see this would-be intruder.

He was surprised to see not some wily wizard, but a young girl, swearing and punching outside of the perimeter. Was this Kael’s supposed attacker? 

“What nonsense is this?”

 

“You!” Maena cried, and jabbed her finger at him. It might have been imperiously dangerous if she’d been older, taller, and not shooting off sparks like an irate candle. She puffed up. “You black-hearted betrayer! I, Maena of the Burning Cabal, come to challenge you on the behalf of my father, whose magic you stole the day you - the day you…” she stumbled here, realizing she didn’t actually know the perfect dates, “the day you stole other people’s magic too!”

To cover for it, her hands lit up in impressive fireballs. Whispering the incantation to keep them going, she continued, “I am sure you remember him! His name was Malik, and he was the best of your year before you stole his birthright. He would have been great as the Scion of the Sun if it weren’t for you!”

 

Oh. So this was  _ his _ attacker, not Kael’s. He should have figured that some of the many mages he had sealed had carried on ordinary lives, had families and so on. The existence of this grudge-bearing child shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but her claims certainly did. Malik...Malik? Did he even remember their names? His faceless peers, with their marginal abilities?

A match for Kael.

It brought a smile to his face, purely condescending in nature. The fireballs wouldn’t burn him, he was quite sure the void would simply devour such weak magic.

“Your father was a simpleton at best.”

He stepped outside of the barrier. This girl barely reached his chest, if that at all. Her temper and accusations were...amusing, if anything. What lies had she been spoonfed since birth? That Nortrom the Silencer was a monster who stole her father’s destiny? 

“I do not even recall his face, nor his magic. If he was so full of promise, he would not have been so easily defeated. Do not pick a battle you cannot win, child, or you will meet the same fate.”

 

“My father was a great mage!” Maena refuted, angered by his insults. First he took his magic, now he would take his dignity? “He was probably greater than a - a malformed elf like you!”

Not that Maena herself looked like a proper elf. Her mother had been of Hazhadal breeding stock, with broad shoulders and plain features, while her father had been good-looking in an elven way. Maena had turned out to be a strange mix - too short to be quite elfish and too human around the ears and eyes for her father to be proud of her.

“You probably tricked him, just like you tricked everyone else. You lied to them all!” Maena’s hand moved back, like she was about to pitch the fireball in her hand. “I will avenge him!”

She threw it.

 

The fireball had Nortrom’s attention first, and he raised his right arm which bore one of his gauntlets to block the impact. Even if it wouldn’t burn him, he wouldn’t resist the instinct to block the magic. Maybe he should have gotten dressed before checking on this intrusion. He glanced towards the carriage, but there was no sign or sound from Kael, so he likely had not noticed.

“I lied, did I?”

This child was entirely wrong, on every level of existence. She was a member of the Cabal, a misguided fool who listened and believed her father’s pitiful excuses, and entirely unaware of the Silencer’s reputation beyond these lands.

The curse passed his lips with not much effort, and it would settle those sparks on her face and hair swiftly.

“And what did I lie about? Please, do tell me what your useless father has told you about me, little girl.”

 

And just like that… her magic was gone.

The fireball was snuffed out as if it never existed. Her hair went out, leaving the stringy auburn strands to settle around her face. Maena looked at her hands, dumbfounded, searching for her magic. It had been with her since she was born. Where was it? Why couldn’t she feel it? Did - was she sealed?

Did he take her magic too?!

“What did you do?!” she screamed. Tried to. The words stuffed themselves in her throat and refused to dislodge, and Maena choked, hands going to her throat. Her magic… her voice… she began to tear up. Was she doomed to the same magic-less existence as her honored father?

Gasping and mouthing, she attacked the Silencer with the only thing she had. Her fists.

 

Nortrom didn’t bother to give her an answer, mostly because she rushed at him in a fit of fury. The impact of her fists didn’t exactly hurt, but Nortrom was not a kind elf who would let the child have her temper tantrum in good graces. His armored hand came up to grab her by the head, lifting Maena off of her feet before Nortrom slammed her down on her back. Granted, he could have killed her too, but he saw some need to justify his actions. 

His hand around her throat kept her on the ground.

“Listen, girl. Your father’s told you nothing but lies. He is as useless a mage as you are, and you should share his fate. I can take your magic away for the rest of your life. As easily as I could kill you, right here and now. But you are no threat, and maybe have the capacity to learn.”

He watched her face as the curse wore off.

“I took the magic of all who looked down on me. Who believed me to be useless, when they were, in fact, the waste of life and space I proved them to be. Do not be a fool like your father. Leave the Cabal. Forget your vengeance. Find some purpose in life besides the tyranny of magic.”

 

Stars burst across her eyes when her head met the ground with a painful crack. She was dazed momentarily, just trying to recover from the sudden impact, tears flowing from her eyes. It took her some time to realize the shrill noise was  _ her _ screaming.

Maena tried to claw his hands off, but they proved simply too strong. It felt like trying to remove iron bands. She was kicking, but her feet only met the harsh stone of the desert. The Silencer was above her, looking like the face of Death itself, here to steal everything from her.

Tears flowed down her face when her voice finally returned proper. “Not m-my magic,” she pleaded around the pain, “anything - anything b-but that.”

To lose her magic forever… what fate was worse than that? What was she without the ever-present warmth of her inner fire, the constant ebb and flow of the arcane when she used flame?

Still thrashing uselessly against the now choking hold around her neck, Maena clawed at his hands, his arms, anything to get his weight off her. “I don’t want to die,” she sobbed pathetically.

 

“You’re not  _ listening _ !” Nortrom growled, with little patience for her fear. He pressed a little harder, hoping the pain would still her into some sort of shocked attention.

He was telling her exactly how she would survive this encounter, and possibly have a future. And all she cried for was to keep her magic? Was she already so dependent on the arcane? It didn’t serve her well in his eyes.

“Magic does not make you better. Magistronger. Magic does not make you _ better _ . You are not worth more than anyone else. Do you hear me?!”

 

“Yes!” Maena gasped out. This was it. She was going to die. “I understand, I do!”

All her father’s warnings about the terrifying Silencer were true. He was a horror, demanding that she leave behind  _ everything _ because he said so. Where would she go? What would she do?

The fear paralyzed her, until she could hardly cry. Wide glassy brown eyes stared up at the lined face of the Silencer. “I’m not - I’m not stronger, I’m not better,” she stuttered, hoarse after all her shrieking, “just… please.  _ Please _ .”

 

It wasn’t her plea that had Nortrom ease off, but the apparent understanding she’d come to. He released her throat and stood up again, retrieving the glaive he’d let drop when she assaulted him.

“Good.”

All things considered, he handled that very kindly. She was still young, there was a chance of her bettering herself. If the Cabal was full of foolish mages like this, their extermination would either be very swift or turn into a lesson for leagues of ignorant children.

“Now leave and hope you have not disturbed your scion.”

 

Maena stared up at the night sky, blinking, when the Silencer moved off her as swiftly as he’d thrown her down. Her head was pounding, her neck was throbbing, and her face was still wet, but she was alive and still possessed her magic.

Breathing shallowly, she slowly sat up. Felt the back of her head. It was wet and sticky. Tears? Blood?

“W-Wait!” she said before the Silencer could leave. He looked like some demon of the sands, blending into the night with the moonlight highlighting only the wicked edge of his glaive while his face remained shadowy. On her hands and knees, she stared up at him. “T-Tell me, please… why did you do it?”

_ Why did you steal their magic? _

 

“Because they needed to learn that magic is not the answer to all things.”

And because they tormented him, tried to make him feel weak and useless and worthless. As if no one would ever appreciate his existence beyond the capacity of magic. Nortrom had worked his entire life to build his reputation, to be feared and respected. 

“And it does not mark the worth of a person whether or not they can cast a spell. You’d do well to remember that, girl.”

He made them feel and become as useless as they’d mocked him to be. And now, they were nothing but old bitter liars, or dead.

 

Maena gaped after him. The Burning Cabal was mostly made up of mages. It was never explicitly said but one’s worth was based on their magic. Maena made it onto the council because she was a strong mage - out here, one’s  _ strength _ dictated one’s importance.

She only got up when he was gone. Dusting off her knees, Maena limped back to her camp with her tail between her legs, shamed and, somehow, a little enlightened.

Fenn made an exasperated noise when he saw her. “The hell did you run off to?”

“I slipped and hit my head on a rock,” Maena replied vaguely. Fenn gave her a  _ look _ .

“Do rocks leave bruises?”

“Shut up.”

The Silencer had to come out tomorrow as well, right? She would see him then.


	19. Chapter 19

Nortrom thought the little incident would be the last he saw of the girl. Honestly, it didn’t make him feel any better about the Cabal. They inducted children into their ranks and fed them lies. They were no better than the Aeol Drias order, and their demise was a sealed promise he made to himself.

At least Kael’s physical presence alleviated some of the dark thoughts brewing in his mind, and he soon had no capacity to think of bitter children of former enemies, because the Invoker demanded his attention.

The next day, however, Kael dismissed him again and Nortrom decided to pay a visit to the town where the Knights of the Fold had their stronghold. He wanted to see just how far gone they were, but he’d be cautious, emerging in casual clothes and less recognizable weapons.

 

Kael was busily terrorising the Cabal when Maena managed to slip out. She spent a few minutes taking in his grand, terrible beauty before realizing her actual quarry was slipping away. She could appreciate the grandest and greatest of mages some other time - it was his dark shadow, the magic-stealer that she intended to investigate.

He wasn’t armored, Maena thought as she tried to slip behind him discreetly. She was dressed in her desert travel robes, made to insulate her against the harsh sun and sands while keeping her cool, and followed him primarily by the tracks he left behind. Where was his armor? He looked very scary in armor. Like this, she could see how  _ un _ -elf he was.

It was a good few minutes before Maena realized the direction of his travel. Isla! What was he doing going  _ there _ ?

_ Unless… he is a Knight! _ She thought.  _ A cuckoo brought to Aeol Drias, and now to our Scion. _

It didn’t sound that likely once conceptualized - how would the Scion miss _ that _ ? - but it was plenty cause for ample suspicion.

 

Nortrom was entirely unaware for a good portion of the way that he had a stalker. The desert was as unwelcoming as ever, and the road to Isla a trampled path in the sand. He didn’t miss this part of his home at all, especially after seeing lush forests and jungles on his travels. Why would anyone stay here, let alone settle?

That was a thought for another time. He could see the town, not too far, shimmering in the distance. Sun-baked houses nestled together, the bustle of life as flashes of white and colour in the streets.

Nortrom took a break on a boulder, drinking from his canteen and wiping sweat from his brow. And that’s when he felt the presence, something lingering on his back. A predator? A bandit? He braced himself.

“Come face me, whatever you are.”

He wasn’t afraid to travel alone, combat experience aplenty on his side.

 

Maena froze, then cursed the few stones she’d dislodged with her careless step. They were the culprits that’d betrayed her presence. She instinctively ducked lower into the crevice she was wedged in, debating with herself hotly over staying put and seeing if he was bluffing, or letting him know.

The brief image of him grabbing her and slamming her down flashed and Maena swallowed.

Right. Terrifying mage-killer Silencer. Might be a little unwise to test his patience.

“You go far from the camp,” she said, mustering up bravado. Stepping out, she straightened. “What is your purpose in Isla?”

 

“I don’t have to explain myself or my actions to a child.” Nortrom wasn’t surprised to see her again. The bruises he’d left obviously didn’t do enough to change her attitude, and now he had somehow become a person of interest to this defiant little mage.

Great.

“What are you doing following me around?”

 

“Why are you going to Isla?” she shot back. There was some distance between them this time. She could probably turn around and run if came at her. Maena crossed her arms, chin and chest jutting out in defiance.  _ He _ didn’t scare her! ...much!

Besides, all arrivals and departures in Isla had to be watched. Those who went to near to the city left warped by the Stones. “You’re being suspicious,” she said. “And it’s my duty as a council member to watch all suspicious activity near our lands.”

 

“I’m being suspicious? I have the trust of your scion. You don’t think you’re insulting him by following me around?” Nortrom didn’t much care for Kael’s reputation as a walking god, but if it got this girl to stop looking his way and throwing murky accusations, he’d use it. If not, he’d have to find some other way of getting rid of her before he made it to Isla.

 

“No,” she said, offended by the sheer thought. “I-It’s also my duty to make sure people get safely around the desert.” It  _ was _ . Really. The Cabal just didn’t get enough outsiders to warrant that. Until now, anyway.

“As our Scion’s guest, you have to be watched. For your own safety.” Maena didn’t really think he needed to be watched - unless it was for  _ other _ people’s safety, anyway - but she couldn’t just let him  _ go _ . What if he was  _ evil _ ?

“It’s true,” she said sullenly, just to head off any questions. 

 

She thought he was up to no good. And she wasn’t necessarily wrong, depending on which side one stood. The Knights certainly wouldn’t appreciate Nortrom’s visit. 

“You’re stalking me for my own safety. You must have great trust in your magic abilities.” Nortrom knew she wasn’t here on orders, and he would perhaps give her a little credit for the initiative, but ultimately, she was going to be a nuisance and distraction.

“The Cabal is going behind Kael’s back so soon?”

 

“I’m a councilor for a reason,” Maena said, with a proud tilt of her head, “I have strong magic.”

Not trained much, since her powers were so hard to control, but she was getting there!

Then he  _ accused _ her.

Spots of color were beginning to appear on Maena’s tanned and freckle-splashed skin. “I’m going behind no one’s back! If anything  _ you’re _ the one who’s being all sneaky. Who walks into the desert dressed like  _ that _ ?”

She waved at his clothes. Then the rest of his words caught up and her hand flew to her mouth. “You refer to the Scion by his  _ name _ ?”

 

“Of course I do.” Nortrom couldn’t help the glee that her shocked expression pulled up in him. It wasn’t as if Kael would care what some mage in his Cabal thought of him, and their displays together had been familiar enough to sow rumor, surely.

“Why would I not refer to my lover by his name?”

 

“You’re  _ lying _ ,” Maena immediately blurted. How was that  _ possible _ ? The Scion was  _ beautiful _ . He looked like he had actually descent from the sun itself with his white glowing eyes, his golden hair, and his porcelain pale, perfect skin. Even the way he  _ moved _ had been graceful (so much that Maena felt a bit like a club-footed cow next to him). He didn’t just  _ walk _ . He  _ floated _ across the desert, looking serene and perfect even under the harshest glare of the high sun.

And then the  _ Silencer _ was… he wasn’t  _ right _ . He didn’t look like he belonged with the Scion as anything else but a dark, gloomy, murderous shadow. How could he - how could they -

_ Who does what? _ Her mind supplied and Maena stiffened.

“...really?” she finally squeaked.

 

Nortrom’s brow quirked as Maena struggled to accept what he’d said, and yes, he was pretty satisfied with that reaction. No one looked at Kael and thought it possible that Nortrom was anything to him but some kind of lurking presence...

Well. Now someone did.

“Yes. Who would be foolish enough to claim that as truth if it was not?”

Certainly not him. The fond memory of Kael’s naked body pressed to his just this morning almost made him smile.

 

That  _ was _ true… but it had to be verified, just to make sure their Scion’s good name was not being besmirched. But who would dare ask him…? Maena’s ears burned at the idea of even trying walk  _ near _ the immortal elf, much less  _ asking _ him if he was… if he… if he was  _ bedding _ the Silencer.

_ Excuse me, grandest and greatest of mages and Scion of the Sun, may I know if you are sleeping with that murderous, angry looking elf over there? _

Her face burned.

_ Was that why they share a carriage…? _

Maena buried her red face in her hands. She must look like a _ tomato _ that’s been  _ burnt _ and  _ stepped on  _ right now.

“I believe you,” she said, mentally begging him to stop before the embarrassment ate her alive. Did this mean she tried to attack the Scion’s…  _ lover _ ?

 

“You can ask him upon your return. Which you can get to right now. I’ve idled for long enough.” Nortrom enjoyed her embarrassed shade, but he had a town to scout and a plan to make. Yes, Kael would wipe out the Knights of the Fold, but the intelligence provided was only given by the Cabal and that would not do. What did mages know of war except to throw fireballs at each other? Even Kael was no expert tactician, as he had proved in the war of the Ancients. Not that Nortrom made mention of it, of course, but he kept his observations in mind.

Maena was still there, and still flustered.

“...Are you struggling to understand that your scion is no god, but an immortal elf with needs?” 

 

“That’s enough!” Maena cried. Her face, ears, and neck were covered in blotchy spatters of red but she clutched her walking staff to her chest. She would  _ not _ be deterred or distracted from her true mission!

“We’re not here to talk about the Scion, we’re here to talk about  _ you _ .” She stomped a few paces closer. “We’ll go to Isla. Together.”

 

“I have no use for your company or spells.” Nortrom absolutely did not move. If this girl thought he would simply relent because she was persistent, she had another thing coming. Thing being a cracked skull and head trauma. Nortrom had dealt with brattier people than this who were gods and demons. One teenaged mage would not succeed where they failed.

“I am going to Isla alone. The Knights will surely notice you and your ballooning aura of poorly controlled magic at once.”

 

“I went to Isla before,” Maena protested. Who did this outsider think she was? She and all the people her age had made it a  _ game _ to skirt close to Isla! “I know the city and the people better than you possibly could. You probably never even  _ saw _ a Nemesis Stone before.”

Well, neither did she. But she  _ had _ seen a Knight carrying a sword infused with its power and that was close enough. “You can’t just walk  _ into _ the city. There’re Stones  _ everywhere _ . You gotta walk where the people are normal, and you don’t know which way those are.”

Maena hadn’t been lying when she said he needed some kind of guidance. If not the desert, then Isla itself. She tried her final tactic. “Does the  _ Scion _ know what you’re doing?”

If they  _ were _ lovers, then surely the Scion wouldn’t  _ approve _ of the Silencer wandering into the lion’s den, right?

 

Nortrom groaned. This was getting irritating. He didn’t need a guide to scout a city, and he didn’t need a warning about fragments of the Ancients. He’d fought for them, he’d felt their magic daily, died hundreds of times for their conflict. 

No, Kael did not know what he was doing, but Kael also would not care. Perhaps calling him Nortrom’s lover was too generous for what the immortal elf actually felt. Nortrom was his lover, not the other way around.

“The Scion knows I am plenty capable of handling the Knights by myself. And I do not fear the Nemesis stones, because I have been in the presence of the Ancients themselves. I do not need or want your help!”

 

“I can’t let you go alone in good conscience,” Maena said, and hugged her arms tighter to herself to gird her spirit against the Silencer’s fiery refusal. She would  _ not _ bow down. “I have my own duties to the Cabal, and we don’t let people wander into the desert or Isla without going with them. At least let me come with you into the desert, then you can do whatever you want in the city.”

If he was a co-conspirator, then she would have proof. If not… well. She  _ did _ warn him.

 

“...Fine. But keep quiet.” Nortrom turned and started walking off. There was still a long way to go, and he was wasting time arguing with a child. He needed to keep his focus on eliminating the Knights, because the Cabal would be next. As soon as Kael had his book and ceased to care about his followers, anyway.

Her steps behind him irritated Nortrom. Why was this girl so intent on keeping close to him. Suspicious? Probably. Looking for some reason to call him a worse monster than she already thought him to be? Very likely.

Hah. As if any reason would be enough to convince Kael otherwise of him. The Invoker was not nearly as dedicated to the Cabal as it was to him, and Nortrom would show them that before they died at his hands.

 

The silence only lasted a few more moments before Maena padded closer to him. “What was Aeol Drias like?” she asked slowly. Her father’s stories of it had made it seem so  _ grand _ . What did the Silencer see, on the other hand? Did he understand the beauty of the Skytower, before it’d been overtaken?

“My father said it was one of the most magical places in the world.” She had to jog to keep up with him.

 

“It was a festering pit of arrogance and ignorance.” Nortrom was not going to mince his words, if he had to share them at all. Maybe it would wisen her enough to change her poor perspective on her father’s stories. Nortrom should like to see him some day, and set the record straight.

“The students who didn’t perform as they were told were locked into solitary dungeons and went hungry. The archmage cared little for any of them or what went out outside of his chambers. A selfish, fickle man with garish ambitions to breed his subordinates.”

He refused to use the term ‘us’. Never had he felt any kinship with his fellow students, not even the ones born and raised in his year. 

 

Her face fell. That was… a lot worse than the mystical place  _ she _ had spent her whole life imagining. Her Aeol Drias had been a  land full of beautiful full elves (who looked rather Scion-like), dressed in beautiful magical robes, using fantastical magic for the world. And now the Silencer was here to wreck it all as well.

“...oh,” she said, in a small voice. It didn’t match up with her father’s stories… “But I bet it was still better than the Barrens.” She glumly kicked the red dirt. “You must’ve had food and water, at least. No well digging for  _ you _ .”

 

“I didn’t see the Barrens until I left.” 

When he was a young adult, yes. Before then, Nortrom never even set foot outside of the Skytower. It was...not unlike Kael’s tower, though there was no quirky, loveable presence in the building. But things had been assembled by magic, held up by magic and maintained all without any elf ever lifting a finger.

Of course, it was difficult to have any good memories of a place where Nortrom suffered for so long. The dungeon, the isolation even outside of it, being punished and mocked every day...It was a wonder he came out with any semblance of a mind at all.

“Perhaps it was not so terrible a place for your father. The mages always seemed...content.”

He offered in poor sympathy.

 

The desert stretched out far and wide before them, seemingly unending. Isla was still an hour’s walk away. The Cabal camp was  _ far _ from the city.

Maena shrugged listlessly. “He always missed it and hated the camp. Said mages shouldn’t be living in that kind of condition like nomads. But he was no mage no more, and no one listened to him but my mother.”

Who hated the elf after a year of love. She was still around, but Maena and she were distantly acquainted at best. Not much could be done when your father hoarded you jealously and your mother hated him enough to let him.

“Was he really a - a bad mage?” He couldn’t be. He would tell her about everything he  _ wanted _ to teach her, but couldn’t because of his stolen magic. Someone who knew so much about magic, who’d been trained in a  _ wizard’s tower _ , could not be  _ bad _ . “He must’ve been powerful.”

Maybe not like the Scion, she admitted privately. The Scion  _ felt _ different.

 

“Not particularly.” Nortrom had no specific memory of Maena’s father. He’d been one of the many faces in the arena. One by one, his year group had been sent in to defeat him. One by one, he silenced and sealed their magic for good. It was a kindness, considering what the plans had been for these mages, to be fodder for the Knights until their Champion emerged. Nortrom had spared them a brief life on a battlefield, and doomed them to an ordinary existence as ordinary elves.

“The mages I sealed should have known it was mercy that had me spare their lives. The magic they were taught was to battle with. They were weapons, all of them, as I was supposed to be. It is their own fault if they only managed to grow into weak and bitter people.”

 

“But who else will fight the Knights? They have to be stopped!”

Nothing was more important. The Knights were violent, crude, and zealous - if they had the option to, they would raze whole villages to the ground and convert the survivors. They were  _ real _ evil and mages like them had to  _ stop _ them.

“You took their magic. Their  _ purpose _ .” A purpose as a weapon was a poor one, but it was better that than nothing. “You wouldn’t take the Scion’s magic from him.”

No one  _ ever _ should. It was akin to ripping off someone’s hand when they are  _ blacksmiths _ or something. What good was a blacksmith with one hand?

 

“ _ Kael _ doesn’t seek to claim land and power. He is not like common mages. He’s a scholar, not a warlord.” 

It was just one of the many reasons Nortrom felt such desperate love for the elf, but that was not the subject at hand. 

“Mages organize themselves into Orders, for some purpose. To defeat this enemy, or that, and then they inevitably begin to rot, from the inside out. Their power isn’t enough, they seek more and more. Everything around them matters less and less. The magic becomes their obsession. And then people like the Anti-Mage and myself hunt them down to restore a little order to the world. That’s how it goes. I’ve never met any grouping of mages that didn’t have a power complex. The common people always suffer, no matter their race.”

 

“The Cabal isn’t like that,” Maena persisted. “We don’t steal. We don’t own land. We want to do what’s right and  _ wipe out _ the Knights. We came together to protect mages when magic was feared - and now we want to protect the  _ world _ .”

And remove you, she added mentally. But that was  _ common sense _ . What sensible mage let someone  _ this _ dangerous walk around?

“The Scion agrees with us,” she huffed, “That’s why he came down for us. Because he saw the righteousness of our cause, and chose to honor us with his participation. The Cabal isn’t Aeol Drias.”

_ If what you say is even true. _

 

“The Scion is only here for the Archronicus.” There was no sense in not shattering her poor illusion. Kael couldn’t care less about the Cabal and its sad remnants. It barely reminded him of someone long dead. Dead and still capable of inspiring ire and jealousy from Nortrom, but that, he suppressed violently.

“The Cabal is nothing without an enemy to fight. You have no base, no towers, no purpose. You don’t even store knowledge in an arcanery; what use are you? What is your cause beyond the Knights?”

 

“No, that’s not…” Maena deflated entirely, feeling flat-footed and unsure. Nothing he said was  _ wrong _ , but it  _ felt _ wrong. “We - we just need to destroy the Knights. Then we can settle down without their threat over our heads, and build ourselves a home. A real home.”

They used to have one, before Aeol Drias fell. A permanent camp, with little huts and and towers and libraries. She’d never seen it, but the older ones who were present for the loss of their ally still spoke of it fondly. “The Scion will help us. He’s our  _ leader _ .”

 

The child was delusional. Nortrom didn’t know if he was feeling pity, or merely the vague approximation of sympathy for her belief in Kael. He knew the ‘scion’ best. Kael would not help them rebuild, or relocate. He simply did not care, and it was fine this way. His group of fanatics would die out, suffocate in their hopes and expectations of the immortal elf. But all that young life, like this one, would simply end with her stubborn elders. A waste, if anything, because this one could still be turned into a decent mage with goals beyond the sheer amassing of magical power.

“That faith in him will kill you. And your Cabal.”

Nortrom should know, because he would ensure it.

“Kael is not like us mortals. His priorities are not what fades away in the blink of his eye.”

 

“What else am I supposed to do?” Maena snapped. “The Cabal is my  _ family _ . They taught me how to use my magic, how to do  _ anything _ . I can’t just  _ walk away _ . Where would I go? The Bleeding Hills? The Hoven? Hazhadal is all I know.”

To be alone for the first time… Maena felt a chill pass through her. She looked at the tips of her toes. “Unless… unless you take me with you…?”

 

Nortrom couldn’t answer that with a straight face. Him, take along company? Absolutely not. Even if he wasn’t travelling with Kael, he would be loathed to take on a young companion. Especially a mage from his old homeland. The Silencer wasn’t a teacher, he worked for money or principle.

He coughed, throat dry.

“Impossible. You would get in the way. I’ve no use for a teenage mage underfoot and neither does Kael.”

And if the Invoker did, Nortrom wouldn’t take kindly to the company.

“There’s plenty of opportunity out there, girl. You just have to stop believing the Cabal is all there can be. They’re doomed. Trust me.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” she insisted, “I won’t get in the way. I know how to do chores and I can hunt.” Those were all good skills. If the Silencer really did think she needed to leave the Cabal, where better than with him and the Scion?

“I won’t bother you. Both of you.” Could she ask the Scion?  _ Should _ she? He was so…  _ perfect _ . Could he be kind enough to allow her presence?

 

“It isn’t something that’s up for debate.”

Nortrom wanted to be out of this situation and maybe surrounded by Knights to fight. It would be less awkward for him.

He didn’t want a companion, and he didn’t want to share Kael’s attention. Even with so insignificant a threat. The thought of Maena travelling with them alone made him tired and aggravated.

“You’re not worthy of his presence.”

 

“You’re not the Scion, you can’t just decide for him,” she argued. “Maybe he  _ will _ think so. After all, he likes  _ you _ .”

And everything said that, by all rights, the Scion  _ shouldn’t _ . What did the Silencer think he was by saying he was worthy of the Scion’s presence?  _ Who _ could ever be fully worthy anyway.

“Maybe… maybe he’ll  _ teach _ me.” Her eyes grew wide, dreamy.

 

“He won’t.” Nortrom was rapidly losing patience. Who did this girl think she is?

He turned around just in time to see her expression take on that hopeful edge and it tugged at the green, tangled strings of his heart. In the worst possible way. The echo of the curse was already on his tongue, and the silence enveloped the girl a moment later.

“He will not waste his time on you. You are nothing. I could seal you right now. Nothing would be lost to the world. Do not bother Kael, is that understood?”

Was he seething? Yes, yes he was. 

 

She stopped short when that strangling magic caught her in its vice again. It felt horrible, so horrible, and she had to stop while the Silencer walked ahead, trying to fight back tears and control herself from panicking over her magic. It would come back, it would. He didn’t say he  _ did _ seal her, just that he could. And that’s what made her want to turn back. She didn’t want to walk with this bitter, cynical elf and his spiteful eyes. He was like a mad dog with a bone, growling at anyone he saw.

When the curse wore off, she no longer tried to follow him. He could get to Isla on his own, or die trying. Instead, she went back to her camp, running once she felt safe enough to turn her back on the Silencer.

 

Not that Nortrom would have hunted her down. He may be of a short temper when it came to Kael and all things concerning him, but he had little time for vengeance now, at this point in his life. Isla was close and so were the Knights. He could all but feel their presence, and that of the Radiant Ancient. Must be the Nemesis stones at work.

He put the notion of Maena out of his head as he entered the city. He had real work to do here.


	20. Chapter 20

Maena came back to camp and reported everything Silencer told her. She left out the part where she begged him to take her with him, but all else was said. Another council meeting was convened, which Kael did not care enough to attend.

Today had been a productive day. He’d interrogated everyone about the Hazhadal, their magic, and then studied the sealed elves with a callous disregard for their quiet affront. Every part of their lack of magic was ruthlessly catalogued for his journals on Nortrom until Kael walked away, satisfied, leaving a trail of elves feeling violated and dissected.

He was compiling his information and busily notating it when the telltale ping of Nortrom entering the ward perimeter was felt. He didn’t look up, though his ears were pricked to catch anything interesting. When the carriage door opened, he scratched out a note about the desert diet and its relation to magic.

“You caused a stir,” Kael remarked neutrally.

 

Dripping blood was not Nortrom’s favoured way of returning to Kael’s company, but it couldn’t be helped. The wound wasn’t terrible, but it did sting for the long journey back and his clothes felt heavy with dirt and the blood of others. All in day, he supposed, but it wasn’t pleasant. Brushing off the outer layers quickly, Nortrom didn’t stop to gaze at Kael, though he would have liked to. The bath was far more prudent, and the carriage knew so too, because he could already see the water begin to steam.

“Did I? And here I thought my reconnaissance would be a quiet matter.”

Another layer came off and he could see the angry red of where the wound began, ran over his chest and ended at his hip. He didn’t know what the Radiant had infused into the knights, but their weapons were serious things to consider. 

 

“I noticed you were gone.” Mainly because everyone  _ else _ was commenting on him being gone until Kael had to make note of it, “and then a little mage came in telling everyone you were going to Isla.”

Preliminary, but that was fine. Kael glanced up - those injuries weren’t life-threatening. Already, the carriage was wheeling out a little case full of potions for him to ingest. “Everyone fell apart chattering, so I decided to let them enjoy it while I did something more important.”

Kael thought he was slowly beginning to understand Nortrom’s magic. Lack of magic. It was intrinsically tied in together with him, which was fascinating enough. More reading would be needed, but he thought he was doing pretty well overall. Maybe he could later ask Nortrom to seal someone’s magic while he observed? That would be interesting…

“Why was that mage with you, anyway? She looked familiar…” Kael frowned. A face floated up to his eye. “She reminds me of the founder of the Burning Cabal. Perhaps she is descended from her.”

 

Nortrom took the potions and more importantly, the needle the carriage had provided. He’d need a few stitches, nothing major. The pain was already down to a dull throb. Another scar for his growing collection.

Kael’s words had him attentive, and a little irritated. Again, the mention of a mage long dead and yet still somehow in Kael’s memory. He didn’t much like it, but what could he do about it?

“She attacked me last night. Her father was one of my fellow students at the Skytower...evidently, she failed to leave an impression. Stalking me across the desert was something. I suppose an attempt to get to know me. I can’t say I was very sociable.”

 

“It doesn't matter,” Kael waved off. The thought of her slipped away as quickly as fish from a man's hand. “I want to know what you were doing in Isla. Did you manage to fetch the Archronicus?”

That would certainly make things much simpler. No more messing around with the Cabal for him. 

 

“I’m afraid not. But I have located the Knights’ Commander, who is in possession of it. I could retrieve it tomorrow, if you’d like to unsaddle yourself of the Cabal sooner.” Nortrom gritted his teeth as he threaded the needle through his skin and pulled the wound together. It was clean now, at least, and would not hurt or ache once he lathered it with a potion already provided by the carriage. It took just as good care of him as the tower. Was it still the Lodestone’s doing?

 

Kael  _ had _ been thinking about going and fetching it himself, but Nortrom offering to do it for him was just absolutely dear of him.  _ And _ , more importantly, it freed up time for him to study his new subjects without Nortrom getting underfoot. The elves with the sealed magic were  _ fascinating _ \- mostly because some felt  _ empty _ and others did  _ not _ . He wasn’t sure why, but he intended to find out. Then he could compare notes with Nortrom, find someone to observe for sealing, and go on his merry way.

“That is acceptable,” Kael said, decided. He patted the scroll and it obediently folded up while another replaced it. On the other side of the carriage, a tray holding steamed clean towels on a ceramic plate trundled up. From the potions cabinet, a small pink bottle of pain reliever flew to perch next to the plate. Bandages floated near his head, unrolling and rolling like a child anxiously wringing their hands.

“You will go the next time with your armor.” Kael looked up and pointed at Nortrom’s wounds. His quills also pointed. “Those are not acceptable results to me.”

 

“They’re minor incisions. I’ve endured much worse on the battlefield of the ancients.” Though Nortrom would, of course, take the armor for the next time. He had only been scouting. The next encounter he had with the Knights would be their execution.

“It would be my pleasure to retrieve the book for you. There’s no need to bother yourself with the Knights. They’re traditionally mine to defeat, and I will take great pleasure in their demise. Though I would like to ask you a favour,”

Nortrom looked over, making sure to wear an only vaguely affected expression, 

“I would have you tell your Cabal that I will do this task for you, and none of them.”

 

Hogging the battle? That didn’t sound like Nortrom. He’d always been decent at working with the Radiant heroes, regardless of what they were. Kael had to put aside his scroll proper, interested enough to put his work aside for now. He examined Nortrom closely, searching for any hints of possible Stone corruption. He didn’t  _ seem _ to have been affected by the insidious magic, but that was no real guarantee. Nortrom would have to be closer to make sure.

Kael crooked a finger. “Come here,” he said. He didn’t need to elaborate - Nortrom would obey, as he always did.

 

Of course he would obey. As soon as he finished wrapping the bandage in hand around his arm, he trudged over to Kael, curious as to why he didn’t have anything to say on Nortrom’s strange request. He certainly hadn’t made one like it before.

Kael’s lovely radiance wasn’t dimmed by the lesser lighting inside of the carriage at all. Nortrom was reminded of Maena’s disbelief that he could be the Scion’s lover, and looking at Kael like this had him understand her refusal. How did he deserve the attentions of someone so...magnificent?

 

Kael’s eyes narrowed as Nortrom walked closer. The sick feeling of the Stones wasn’t present on him from this close, but experience told Kael that the Ancients were tricky, lying things that had a tendency to pop up when least wanted. He put his hand on Nortrom’s wrist, and was satisfied when nothing tugged at him.

Free from the Stones’ influence, then.

So this was just Nortrom’s doing and not any unfortunate influencing. It still was not characteristic of the Silencer he’d come to know from among Radiant.

“Tell me why.”

 

“Why I would have you do this?”

Nortrom wanted to pull Kael into his arms and feel his skin, drag his scent into his nose. He longed for the freedom to do with Kael as he wished, whenever and wherever the need took him. But he doubted that he could grow old enough to become that much of a staple at Kael’s side. He satisfied himself with the vision only, drinking it in.

“They despise me. The Cabal. For my reputation and my past. I would see them rendered useless. The book is something you want. I wish to be the one to fulfil you, in whatever way you desire. Of course I would not want the Cabal to aid you in this retrieval.”

 

Was this  _ jealousy _ ?

Kael felt a flare of amusement in him at the thought. All creatures in the world competed for his gracious attention, and it seemed that Nortrom had fallen to the same bug as all others had. Not surprising - just endearing. Kael leaned back, preening.

“So you wish to pluck their last tooth from their mouth, I take it?” Kael examined Nortrom again. Not just his magic, or his injuries - but  _ him _ . He was a  _ proud _ one - unyielding, stubborn. He enjoyed expanding his dominion over mages.

But not  _ Kael _ . What admitted influence he  _ might _ have had fell away now, to reveal his truth. There was almost a manner of irony to the whole matter - a mage-killer following the best mage around. He’d been diverted from his original path by Kael’s splendour - a far more worthier pursuit, if Kael was quite honest.

“The  _ only _ one to fulfil me… that is a mighty challenge to take on. Are you so certain you can shoulder it?”

 

“I am,” Nortrom did not hesitate to answer. Even if Kael would mock him for it, or deny the enthusiastic quest Nortrom had given himself, he would not be discouraged. Fulfilling Kael would make his memory all the more sweeter, and perhaps the Invoker would see him fit to stay at his side until Nortrom could no longer keep up.

“With absolute certainty, I can say that this is a challenge I would rather die than give up.”

It was pride, fueling both jealousy and this eagerness to throw himself to Kael’s desires, as nothing more than another offering to the altar of the immortal mage.

 

“Come closer.” Not just at the desk, but next to where Kael was still sitting. His fingers danced across Nortrom’s wrist before withdrawing. Kael folded them on his lap and looked up at him expectantly. “And kneel down.”

 

Cryptic, but promising. Nortrom moved forward, then down onto his knees, drawing level with Kael’s chest. What the mage had planned, he couldn’t guess at, but Kael didn’t seem particularly displeased with him. That was another thing he appreciated about the Invoker; he didn’t hide his disgruntlement, it was always clear as day. 

Not that Nortrom aimed to pull the frown onto Kael’s face, but at least he knew it would come if he really did something to offend.

“Kael?”

 

“Hush,” Kael said, pressing a finger to his lips.

Now. Wasn’t  _ this _ a familiar situation? Kael could remember Nortrom kneeling before him similarly a year back, when they were still embroiled within the war of the Ancients. It’d been before Nortrom had admitted to his attraction but stuck around Kael anyway. There was no stone collar for him this time, but he needed no such thing anymore. Nortrom had given himself a collar all on his own, without prompting or wanting from Kael.

His hand went up to tangle in Nortrom’s hair. “Do you remember the last time I asked you to kneel like this?”

He’d been so  _ reluctant _ then. Still too proud to bend his stiff neck - and where was that pride now? Still there… just gone in regards to someone he now understood to be a beacon of light in his mortal, petty life.

 

Nortrom closed his eyes. He silently adored the moments when Kael ran his hands through his hair, sometimes brushing over the tip of his ears. It felt much closer than most of the other frequent but flighty touches they shared. Like this, he could picture Kael caressing him, with adoration and love that the mage had forgotten how to feel. 

If Nortrom was foolishly ambitious, he would be trying to kindle that in the immortal. But he knew better, despite the needy ache in his heart that said otherwise.

“You were experimenting with my abilities. I was not so eager then, I remember.”

That had been months ago, and it felt like years.

 

“No, you were not. You seemed reluctant to divulge much of yourself back then too.” It’d taken careful probing questions on Kael’s part to coax answers out of him. It’d taken time for Nortrom to open up properly, but here they were now. Kael had no doubt that Nortrom would give him the answers to any question he might have - and some more, just because he wanted to go the extra distance.

“But here we are. Here  _ you _ are.”

No collar but his self-imposed one to make Nortrom bow down. Kael grabbed a sizeable chunk of hair and used it as leverage to jerk his head back. “Now you will do  _ anything _ to please me, won’t you?”

 

Not anything. There were some boundaries that remained firm. Nortrom would never kill his friends for Kael, nor destroy anything he really believed in. If Kael knew that or not remained open for debate. Confused by the sudden need for jerking his head around, he watched Kael carefully, giving thought to his answer instead of pure devotion.

“There’s few things I wouldn’t consider. You are the love of my life, regardless of how little that may mean to you.”

 

It  _ was _ meaningless, true. A mayfly could love the sky, but it would only love it for so long. Kael relaxed his grip, satisfied, and thought about Nortrom’s original request. It was dangerous to fight the Knights all alone, but Nortrom seemed to think he was capable of it. Nortrom was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them.

“Very well,” Kael said, mind made up. “You will go to Isla alone.”

Unless he pictured them going  _ together _ ?

Kael’s original intent had been to watch and see what the Cabal would and could do. He had no  _ real _ desire to help them in any way, any more than to pay some small measure of what he got out of the eventual assault. But Nortrom had gone on his lonesome, and had come back victorious - if a little hurt.

Yes. He could handle himself.

“Bring the Archronicus to me, Nortrom. I shall be most disappointed if you fall.”

 

“I will not. Fall, or fail.” Nortrom was satisfied with this new level of expectation out of Kael. He had not objected to his departure at all. Clearly, he estimated Nortrom’s chances to be high. Or he trusted him to know what he was doing.

_ Or, you know, he simply wouldn’t care if Nortrom died. _

The Silencer shook that thought off quickly. Kael had crafted armor for him, fine and intricate, simply because he didn’t wish to witness his death. He must care for Nortrom’s safety and survival. 

Nortrom bowed his head to kiss Kael’s hand.

“And you will tell the Cabal?”

 

“I will the day you set out,” Kael nodded. He eyed the bandages on Nortrom. The carriage must’ve provided those, since Nortrom would have no need of those if he just  _ asked _ to be healed.

“Why did you not ask me to heal you?”

Most of his companions did when they were hurt. Kael was proficient in the healing arts - mostly being well-versed in the spells that brute forced a rapid healing. He was aware there were more intricate spells available, but they were wasteful. Why waste time setting individual bones and knitting each muscle string together when he could push them all into place and heal the damage at once?

“It would work faster and better than potions.” Kael had not offered, true. But Nortrom had a tongue and a mouth, did he not?

 

“I don’t mind adding scars to my collection. They teach me to be better in every consecutive fight. I simply...didn’t think to ask you.” 

It was entirely natural to Nortrom to be hurt in battle and endure the consequences. It let him know his weak spots, the holes in his defense. He’d never met a warrior without an intricate network of scars and a long history of terrible injuries.

 

One of the first spells Kael had ever learned as a child had been healing. He didn’t recall it now, but the mage he’d apprenticed under had been healer of his village. The very first sparks of magic he’d called up had been meant to mend and fix, and the early vestiges of that magic still lingered in the way he healed. “You will have to wait for those to heal on their own,” Kael noted. Green healing magic played on his fingertips, before going out.

No healing then.

Kael turned away and pulled up his scrolls instead. His hand remained in Nortrom’s hair, keeping him rooted in place. “I have been studying the former mages of Aeol Drias to see how your sealing works. It’s quite fascinating. You will have to show me how you do it sometime.”

 

“The sealing? I didn’t know that interested you.”

Most mages would flinch at the thought of watching another lose their magic entirely. It was so intrinsic to mages, a natural part of their being, and Nortrom could cut it off permanently, like losing a limb.

“If you wish to see it, I’ll need a subject. Or several. A quantitative sample.”

Like the Cabal’s elders. Oh, he would enjoy this. Almost as much as Kael’s continued touch on his head, although remaining on his knees wasn’t particularly productive on his end. This whole expedition to the Wastes was turning out to be much more rewarding than he expected. Surely, having the ancient tome as well as another fascinating aspect of Nortrom’s powers to study would make Kael’s interest in him rise to heights that could be sustained for a year more.

 

“We  _ do _ have a group of mages who would be of more use to me as subjects…” Kael’s thoughts wandered to the Cabal. Most of them were middling mages at best - why not use them, as they were meant to be? They were his subjects and loved him, so it would be an honor to further his scholarly pursuits like that…

Now  _ that _ was an idea.

“You will fetch the Archronicus, “ Kael decreed, “and then you will show me your sealing. I will have the subjects ready for the testing period after you return.”

 

“As you wish, my love,” Nortrom whispered it to Kael’s lap, utterly content that this was fulfilling both of his primary objectives. He’d fall further into Kael’s favour by providing him the Archronicus as well as another aspect of his void, and he’d also be getting rid of a good chunk of the Burning Cabal, on Kael’s orders nonetheless.

“I’ll need the strongest of the mages. It makes little sense to seal a mediocre amount of magic.”

 

“We will record it all. From the weakest to the strongest, then different races, then brackets of gender, age, and affinity. We  _ must _ be thorough. There should be enough mages in the Cabal to suit our purposes.” It would be a busy time of testing that could take several days. The Cabal might understand… or not. It would be most annoying, but Kael would have to make do. It was sometimes a  _ curse _ to be such a scholar in a world full of small minds.

“You will do it in different orders as well. First silencing someone, then sealing them. Or sealing them outright. And so forth. I trust you are capable?”

Their tests would be as rigorous as their first early shared days. Nortrom would have to prove himself ready.

“Are you able to seal partially? Reduce parts of magic, or weaken it, and such?”

 

“I’ve never tried to partially seal. I’ve seen no reason to spare a mage his fate. But I am willing to try. Whatever variation of it you need for your studies, I will do my best to provide.” Nortrom was, after all, the most eager assistant Kael had never asked for.

If only because he knew a great performance would lead him to much more enjoyable situations with Kael. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to be done with the Knights. The future of the Cabal promised to be much, much more entertaining.


	21. Chapter 21

And his enthusiasm carried Nortrom through an extraordinary amount. He did leave for Isla alone, decked out in his armor, bearing shield and glaive and a protective spell or two that Kael had agreed to after Nortrom listed the information he’d gathered on his first journey to the Knights of the Fold.

Isla was burning mere hours after his arrival, though to blame were the fiery spells that caused explosions. Nortrom didn’t possess the means to shield the city or its inhabitants, nor did he find the time to express any regret for their casualties.

The battle was brutal, his enemies numerous and his glaive ran red with victory.

His journey back was made astride a borrowed horse, the beautiful armor Kael had crafted dyed a deep crimson. The blood of the Knights clung desperately, crusted and dried in the desert heat.

 

While Nortrom was off conducting a minor genocide in the north, Kael was busily organizing the Cabal to his desire. They had asked questions but meekly quieted when Kael snapped at them to merely follow his orders. The Torchbearer had been lumped in with magically powerful elders, and the council was broken up to whatever group Kael thought to toss them in. The little red-headed one was in the youth’s group, looking wide-eyed.

“I am conducting an experiment,” he said imperiously when she managed to stutter out a question, “get back into your group and wait.”

The people were mostly organized when Nortrom came back. A cry went up when they saw the standard on the horse he’d taken and the Torchbearer trembled with rage when they realized their hated enemy had taken out their  _ other _ hated enemy. “Scion! What is the meaning of this? The accursed creature -”

With a wave, the muting spell settled over the angry yells. Kael had no time for that kind of assuaging.

“The Cabal has another use for me,” he said. His hand extended to Nortrom to take the Archronicus. “Elimination of the Knights has taken place, and my Archronicus is here. You have a greater, grander purpose for me in furthering magic as we know it.”

Still unsettled but slightly more mollified, the Cabal stilled.

 

Nortrom gave the book a pat as he deposited in Kael’s magical grasp where it floated beside the mage like one of his reagents. Then, the bloodied Silencer dismounted, planting his shield and glaive into the ground. He would not need them for the next elimination, especially not with Kael here to control the Cabal.

The taste of fear was beginning to thicken in the air, but Nortrom paid it no mind. He had all of these potentially dangerous mages, gathered, obedient, and with no idea that they would not be mages for much longer.

“This one should be the first.”

Nortrom’s heavy steps stopped before the Torchbearer and a hidden smile curled his lips. This fellow in particular had voiced his objection to Nortrom’s presence, and it would be his personal pleasure to drain the magic out of the Torchbearer’s mind and into the void.

 

The crowd was hushed. Like little sheep, they huddled closer together in their groups as they watched the Silencer advance on them. The Torchbearer tried to look brave, but it was hard when none of them understood what was going on. What was this study? Why did their Scion let the Silencer kill the Knights when the Cabal should have? Why were they in groups, standing here?

The Torchbearer straightened up, tilting his chin up so he could look the Silencer in the eye. He hated him, and he would die before he showed fear.

From far away, Maena peeked out at the events. She was with the other young mages, who milled nervously without instruction. The tension was in the air, and she was wondering the same thing everyone else was. But with an added bit of flavor, as she remembered what kind of creature the Silencer was.

Violent. Volatile. Vicious. Whatever was happening could not be good.

_ That faith in him will kill you. _

Maena swallowed. No… no. That ominous warning from when they walked the desert together was just him trying to scare her. Nothing more. The Scion would not let him do anything more.

 

Silence was a wonderful new tune for the Cabal. Their incessant ramblings gone, their unbearable pride as mages shook as they stood, unsure of what was in their future. Nortrom waited patiently until Kael had a few journals poised and ready to take notes. There was little sense in wasting any moments of the sealing through lack of documentation. Nortrom too would like to see and know what Kael would deduct of his talent.

Once the quills were ready, Nortrom grasped the Torchbearer’s shoulders. He lowered his head, whispering a few words, the beginnings of a curse, but without the haste of his usual attacks. This was merely the start of the sealing, opening up the pooled magic to drain out of his subject. The light blue mist of materialized mana began to glow around the Torchbearer, but it didn’t remain an electric highlight of his silhouette, instead flowing towards Nortrom. Gently, at first, then in great big, greedy chunks of it.

It was painful, going by the Torchbearer’s whimpers turned to agonized moaning.

 

_ Fascinating _ , Kael thought as he watched the way the magic flowed out and disappeared into the void within Nortrom. It wasn’t like it was  _ eating _ it, or anything similar - it was just being  _ taken _ . Destroyed? Nullified? The possibilities were endless. Kael continued to scribble down notes, watching everything in rapt silence

Behind the Torchbearer, the Cabal looked more unnerved. The sealed elves of Aeol Drias, however, recognized what was happening and backed away with a cry.

“He’s stealing magic!”

It immediately set off an uproar. The cry went out as more and more accusations flew around.

“He tricked the Scion!”

“The Silencer is going to kill us all!”

Further away, Maena began to scramble away from the building outrage. She had to get out. There was no way to fight this out. Not against the Scion.

“Come with me!” she hissed, yanking at the arms of her fellow mages. They shook her off, preferring to grow angry and attack. Only Maena, it seemed, understood there was no resistance.

 

“Maena we have to do something!” Finn, bunched into the same group of young mages, hissed her way.

The objections raised into a storm of voices but Nortrom didn’t allow it to disturb his concentration. The mana continued to flow, and with it, the Torchbearer’s ability to make use of it as the base for his magic. It felt...good. Not unlike a well-prepared meal, actually. Just much more fulfilling than simply meeting the needs of an empty stomach. This, this made Nortrom feel a twinge of power, the stir of something more beyond the edge of the void.

Kael would stop anyone who attacked him, right? 

He trusted in the Invoker to let nothing disturb his field of study.

“You shall never cast again,” he whispered to the Torchbearer before he let him drop from his hands and to his knees. The man didn’t show any resistance now.

 

“Do  _ what _ ?” she snapped back. “Fight them? We have to go, now!”

Kael’s irritation at the interruption was only visible in the twitch of one elegant brow. He looked up at the growing riot with something like disdain before he brought up his reagents for a spell.

Power flowed into the spell, making it stronger than it normally was. The longer it charged, the more it became. Kael looked as if he were glowing when the magic snapped out, catching all those who tried to fight in cold. Their bodies froze still, even though they tried to move.

Maena, shielded by the dozens of bodies in front of her and the Scion, began to creep away. If anyone else was caught here, their magic was as good as gone.

“There’s only one thing we can do,” she said grimly, “and that’s run.”

 

“But they-”

Fenn’s body was encased by ice before he could finish his sentence.

Kael’s spell would hold every mage he caught until Nortrom could personally seal their magic and provide the grounds for study. As for the survival of the Cabal...well, they could reduce their numbers as they chose. No mage here was even remotely a challenge for the Scion, the Invoker. Nortrom almost pitied them for their desperate belief that Kael would help them.

Even their accusations had placed the blame for this happening squarely on Nortrom’s shoulders, rather than the mage who would let them all lose their lives if it made for interesting data.

Silence descended once more, and this time it would not be disturbed as the Cold Snap turned the would-be riot into a garden of living statues.

“Not a whisper...much better. Shall I show you how I can seal and kill with the next, Kael?”

 

“Go ahead,” Kael nodded. The army of quills were frantically scribbling away as he watched Nortrom continue to work his… non-magic. He looked at the Torchbearer, who was on his knees and looking at his hands. Some study of a freshly sealed mage would also be needed. That one would serve.

The next statue was a human mage, who looked terrified out of her wits when Nortrom’s attention turned to her. She looked like she wished she could run, but no longer could. Kael noted her expression - did emotion affect the sealing? Emotion from Nortrom, emotion from the victim?

Those would need answers.

“Try and do it slower, so I may catch any details.”

 

“Very well.” Nortrom took his position in front of the woman, gently scraping away ice from her face and neck. Those were the most accessible points to drain mana and incidentally, life from most. He could just cut her open, let her die, but that would ruin the seal if she was gone too quickly.

“It won’t hurt,” he promised his subject, laying his hands on her skin, “too much.”

It would, because the woman for the life of her couldn’t keep quiet as Nortrom began. This time, the mana cloud was polluted with red, not of blood, but a similar nature. The life her magic was tied to came loose as soon as Nortrom nudged at it.

He didn’t need to watch the hope drain out of her eyes, nor the lively luster from her skin. He’d done and seen this before.

Nortrom let his gaze travel beyond the weeping woman in his grasp, to the mages that remained still and awaited their horrendous fate. Particularly the young mages, though Nortrom would try not to be in need of killing them, unless Kael absolutely required that information.

That mouthy stalker of his was notably not among the frozen statues, and something was still untouched by the white frosting of Kael’s spell.

Right there. Red hair, the flaming touch of magic. Ma-something. The girl wasn’t locked down, and now Nortrom had seen her. 

_ Run, if you’re not a fool. _

The Silencer nodded his head towards the dark sky over the desert, in the direction of Isla.

 

Maena squeaked when the Silencer saw her. He’d been working on poor Grisha, doing  _ something _ that was killing her, and then caught sight of her, somehow, through the tangled forest of bodies. She didn’t know what she expected. Him to raise the alarm? To point his hands at her, and steal her magic right there?

She did not expect him to nod away, as if trying to tell her something.

Everyone else was frozen. All the children she’d grown up with were mannequins capable of doing nothing more than watch their doom approach them one by one, hands outstretched to take away their gifts. She’d already tried to use her fire magic to unfreeze them, but it was impossible. The ice resisted her touch actively, simply freezing back over the places she managed to thaw out and undoing her work while leaving her exhausted.

Maena had no delusions about her chances against the Scion. He was near godly - she was just a lost half-elf mutt cowering between people’s legs. The Silencer had seen her - it was only a matter of time before he got to her too.

With a muffled sob, Maena realized what had to be done.

There was no one to convince to run away. All of them were frozen except her. If she stayed, her magic would be stolen. If she left, her Cabal would hate her for escaping the fate they all succumbed to.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stay and let the Silencer put his cold hands on her neck and steal her magic, and let her become a lifeless husk like her father.

She crawled out, pushing against the bodies until she managed to squeeze her body through. Maena aimed for the back of the crowd, as far away from the Scion and the Silencer as she could make it, stifling her growing sobs and wiping her tears on her wrist so she could see. The desert was blurring before her, but she had to go.

With a grunt, she made it out. She could still see the Silencer, now on his next victim. Grisha was on the ground, lifeless as a doll and the Torchbearer seemed to realize that, without his magic, he was merely an old man. Tears were making their way down Fenn’s frozen face but he could do nothing but watch Maena just as she watched them back.

The bonfire was still raging on, illuminating the glistening, iced over bodies of her family. Their red robes were frozen stiff, leaving them looking like peculiar ice sculptures infused with hints of color. Her people. Her home. Everything she knew, everything she loved.

Maena didn’t try to stop the tears as she began to run into the desert, away from the horror.

 

Nortrom saw her leave, and he said nothing. What was one, intermediate mage, in the grand scheme of things? Kael had all the subjects he needed right here, and Nortrom’s power would be fattened by the sacrifices they would all make for their Scion.

Maena would be forgotten soon enough. And if she came to seek vengeance once more, then she’d meet the same fate as the rest of the Burning Cabal. A cult of magic was bound to lead to death, and here was the absolute proof.


	22. Chapter 22

It took them beyond the night. Nortrom spent three days, sealing and killing, all whilst Kael noted every detail. Some of the more conscious mages were permitted to speak and describe what it felt like in exchange for their lives. None of the ones that lashed out in Kael’s direction got that deal.

The Burning Cabal was utterly asunder when the carriage finally took to the sky, Kael’s mind and journals full of new knowledge and Nortrom in an exhausted sleep after an extensive bath.

The slaughter they had orchestrated didn’t weigh on either elf. After all, the Cabal had existed only to serve Kael, had it not?

 

It was a satisfying time of study. Kael brushed through the pages as he read their entries over and over again. The Archronicus was also a source of excitement that he’d set a quill on copying as soon as it arrived in the carriage. The entries were all written down, even the ones he’d read before, just to see if there were any changes present within the text.

Fascinating work, overall. In between the in-depth study, Kael chatted with Nortrom as they made heavy use of the carriage’s bed. Kael brought his journals to bed as well, reading while Nortrom slept. The theories were all taking shape, until Kael was certain he could begin self-study. He’d studied how the non-magic itself worked, how it interacted with his spells, with other mages, with Nortrom… at this point, it seemed like he didn’t really  _ need _ Nortrom anymore.

He waited, just to be sure. A few questions were answered as the journals compiled themselves into printed editions for Kael’s perusal. In the meantime, he and Nortrom also spent time reading  _ his _ entry in the Archronicus. They first read Kael’s - which detailed his rise as the Invoker and, in broad strokes, went over his childhood as he came into his magic. Then they went to Nortrom’s entry. As Kael predicted, it detailed his overthrow of Aeol Drias.

“... _ and thus he scattered the ancient bastion of Aeol Drias like so much detritus in the wind _ ,” he read out loud, “ _ destroying ten thousand years of labor from countless predecessors. The Silencer, last scion of the proud tower, had awoken _ . Ah. Look. There’s another entry for you about the Knights of the Fold and the Cabal.”

Nortrom’s slice of the book was still small compared to Kael’s thick chapters, but he was slowly adding to his fame and it showed.

 

Having the Archronicus detail his personal victories was a little unnerving. Nortrom couldn’t really grasp on what kind of magic this book operated, to know so much of him and yet not be of an awakened mind. But there was something charming about laying in bed with Kael and the thick volume and hear himself declared someone of fame, of noteworthiness.

“The last scion of the tower?” 

He glanced at the word, almost a little irritated by it now, after hearing it in such various, pitiful voices, that night at the encampment of the Cabal. It lingered with him, a strange memory of studious murder and prolonged pain, yet entirely removed from his own person. When he remembered it, he could almost look over his own shoulder and watch the death of dozens of mages, as if he’d been a bystander to it all.

“The end of the Cabal...it is uncanny, how quickly these entries appear. Though now I understand why it is not coveted by more; it does not speak of the future.”

 

“It is only of use to those who wish to know of the past. It will record events only as they happen, and no further.”

Kael pushed the tome aside, and contemplated the journals. There was a thick pile of them, filled cover to cover with notes. All studies on Nortrom. “You have been of much use to me, Nortrom.”

Kael rose from the bed and began to dress. The carriage was nearing Elze, he saw. Good. He flipped his hair back as he turned to Nortrom, naked in his bed. “I know so much about your magic now.”

Elegantly, Kael lowered himself back onto the bed, sitting near the curve of Nortrom’s body. One hand went to his cheek. “I don’t think I’ve ran into someone so interesting in such a long time.”

 

It wasn’t unusual for Kael to burst into some well-deserved praise, especially after what they had done before reading the Archronicus. Nortrom always gave his best performance in Kael’s bed, and he could still recall very clearly how much the Invoker had appreciated it. Just as he did now, touching him gently, his presence a balm on the constant need in Nortrom’s heart.

“I could say the same, but I know there is no one more interesting than you, Kael.”

His dear,  _ beloved  _ Kael.

 

“No, there is not,” Kael agreed. He removed his hand and looked away. “It makes sense that even you would begin to grow dull.”

Now he knew all there was to study about Nortrom’s magic, or lack thereof. What else was there to do? Even the sex was no longer as interesting when, every time he looked at Nortrom, he remembered how much he  _ knew _ . What use was there keeping around someone you knew of every edge of? Nortrom was a good lover, certainly, but Kael wasn’t interested in keeping around someone who would surely wither away sooner or later.

He was just…  _ not _ interesting anymore.

“We will arrive in Elze soon. You can get off there.”

A kinder destination than some of the places Kael had dropped off previous passengers. Nortrom would thrive there. Thrive. Grow old. Die. As all things did. “Maybe they still have use for you in the Ancients war.”

 

The word  _ dull  _ had hit him like a bludgeon, but everything that followed it was a pickaxe in his chest, carving out what Nortrom had felt just moments ago. 

No. This was...too soon, he was supposed to have more time at Kael’s side, more secrets or powers to reveal. This couldn’t be happening already.

The pleasant warmth of the bed was a bath of ice and Nortrom felt goosebumps crawl over his skin, nausea settle into his stomach. This had to be a bad, bad dream. He’s had them before, the nightmares where Kael grew bored of him and left him in the wilderness. Beneath the silken cover, Nortrom pinched his thigh hard enough to bleed, but he didn’t wake up from some astoundingly painful dream. 

_ You can get off there. _

As if Nortrom wanted to.

“...I...don’t want to.”

It was futile, he knew that, but his heart was in convulsions that didn’t allow for all the carefully laid out plans he’d made to deal with Kael’s eventual disinterest. He wanted to throw up, cry and scream, but he did none of these things, sitting up in Kael’s luxurious bed feeling his heart and love carved out of him, splattered on the ground.

No. He was different. He wasn’t just a subject to study, they’d been lovers, he loved Kael, he loved Kael beyond anything.

_ You love me. It’s foolish. _

“Do I have to leave you?”

It was a whisper of a question that he already knew the answer to, yet he remained as paralyzed as before.

 

Kael looked back at him, as if surprised by the question. “Of course. Why would I want you around? I’ve studied everything about you. You’re no longer necessary.”

The cloud line was getting lower as the carriage began to descend. They would soon be down outside the city’s gates, where Nortrom could get off. Where he would go after that was up to him.

He examined the elf, who seemed to be growing more and more devastated the longer the seconds ticked on. Kael was no cruel person - he’d  _ warned _ Nortrom about the folly of his path. He’d told him, hadn’t he? Just like he’d told so many others that their feelings meant nothing to him - but they always reacted like this. As if  _ he _ was the one who’d prompted their feelings in the first place, instead of their weak spirits reaching out for his own.

“You can’t offer me anything else,” Kael said as he leaned against a wall. Calm. Unaffected. He studied Nortrom with the same vague discomfort he’d always regarded those who reacted strongly to his dismissal. They always acted like it was a  _ surprise _ . “Your wishes have no importance here.”

 

It took more than a little of his self-control to listen to those words and not lunge for Kael, to shake him or assault him. Anything to get more of a reaction to all of this out of him. Yes, he’d said he would never love Nortrom. But had they not just moments before shared warmth and bodies in bed? How could Kael dismiss him so quickly? Could he not have told Nortrom the night before? He would never have wasted so much time sleeping if he knew it was the last night at Kael’s side.

But a tantrum or a fit would do nothing but lower Kael’s opinion of him. And even if he was finished with Nortrom, even if he would forget him soon enough, Nortrom wouldn’t want to tarnish the good memories he had made. Maybe Kael would recall them once before they disappeared.

“I see.”

He left the bed, dressing himself as his mind spiralled into a numb stupor. Every motion was simply mechanical as he packed his belongings, including the armor. This would be it. When the carriage came to a stop, Nortrom approached the door.

He’d never felt worse in his life.

 

“Don’t send letters,” was Kael’s last good-bye. The door of the carriage slammed open, letting in bright sunshine. The commotion of the city could be heard in the distance, but there was no one to be seen in this section of the gates.

As Nortrom began to leave, however, the walls of the carriage shook. A silk curtain stretched out, wrapping around his ankle as if trying to keep him inside. The window shutters slammed open and shut, cacophonous, and the carriage tried to close the door it’d just opened. The small set of stairs retracted and more curtains curled around him. They tugged gently, as if begging him to stay.

Cushions flew up, barring the doorway. The carriage itself seemed to be protesting Nortrom’s departure.

Just as the cushions began to try to push him back in, however, Kael spoke up.

“ _ Enough _ .”

Magic vibrated on the word. Immediately, the carriage stilled. The curtains fell down, lifeless, as did the cushions. The stairs snapped back out and the door opened wider. The carriage walls shook again, harder, and something pushed out of the gilded aperture in the wall next to the door.

White and shining with the accumulation of thousands of years of Kael’s magic, the lodestone floated up. It hovered in front of Nortrom, pulsing and singing like a chorus of tapped crystals. Even when Kael snapped his fingers, summoning it, only came to his hand long enough for him to retake what belonged to him before it wiggled and struggled out of his fist, returning to Nortrom as if drawn.

 

Nortrom had never really viewed the lodestone before, even when it had powered the tower he called home after just a few short days. It was beautiful, and magical, and its protest to his departure warmed some part of Nortrom’s terrified heart.

He held out a hand to cup the stone. It was obvious that it wanted to be in his company, even if it meant leaving Kael’s.

Never had he felt more friendship with a stone in his life. Gently, he closed his hand around it. Clearly, this wasn’t Kael’s decision to make and some part of Nortrom wondered if the mage cared at all, but the answer was as clear as Kael’s disinterest in the situation.

“We’ll take our leave then,” he muttered as he climbed down the few stairs, stomach still lurching dangerously. Nortrom clutched the stone to his chest, “I won’t write any letters, I promise.”

Nothing would be worse than an unopened envelope like Indra’s, gathering dust until some other interesting subject dug around in Kael’s library and found a long-dead bleeding heart hidden in the pages.

“Farewell...Invoker.”

 

The stone walls of Elze loomed over Nortrom as he stepped off the carriage and out of Kael’s life. Without the lodestone, Kael would have to control the carriage himself but he’d done that before he ever found the stone. The door of the carriage shut and the stairs retracted. The light spirits seemed to glance at Nortrom before their golden wings spread and the carriage went up with it. At the last moment, Kael could be seen stepping out onto the perch, beautiful and golden and untouched in the wake of Nortrom’s ruined love.

As the reins of the spirits reacted to Kael’s magic, the carriage took off, away into the brightening blue sky and the faraway horizon. Kael never looked back, not even once, as he began to work on forgetting Nortrom as surely as he forgot those who came before him.

 

Only when the carriage disappeared did Nortrom really realize he was no longer in it. It was over. His beautiful dream of love, flown away, beyond the clouds, leaving him here in the shade of this city. Whatever it was.

It didn’t matter where he’d been dumped. Elze, his mind duly supplied after some strained effort. It could have been the middle of nowhere for all he cared. Nortrom wandered the city like a ghoul, listless and with no interest for anything, no appetite, no purpose. He’d sworn to himself that Kael shouldn’t devastate him like this. And yet. Here he was, heart numb, mind empty.

He spent the day wandering. Sometimes he sat and stared into nothingness for an hour or two. Sometimes he simply stood on a bridge, staring into murky waters, trying to come to terms with what was now left of his life.

Kael had taken the sun, the stars, everything bright or warm when he’d shut that door.

Some time in the night, he placed the Lodestone gently on the ground. He’d taken three hours to find this spot, just beyond the city limits, outside of the massive wall. Surrounded by dark forest and close to the river, it was isolated enough to give him peace and quiet.

 

The lodestone lay there for a little bit, getting a feel of the land and its inherent magic. Once it was certain it knew what it would do, it began to glow with magic. A perfect circle drew itself to mark the boundary of the physical tower and a force pushed Nortrom away, edging him out of the circle. The earth rumbled in a localized spot as the lodestone glowed brighter, summoning the materials it needed to build the tower.

Dirt, stone, and water erupted from the ground as the process began. Magic was almost tangible in the air as the structure of the tower came to be. It was shorter than Kael’s grand creation, but still mimicked the sweeping, elegant poise of the tower Nortrom came to know.

Trees went down as their wood joined the miniature whirlwind. Nothing was visible but grinding rock could be heard, along with harsh snaps and creaks as magic made nature bend to its will. The process was violent and swift, whipping up wind, until it at last settled.

It was plainer than Kael’s sparkling tower. The stone of this smaller tower was simple grey, rather than the veined marble Kael had, but it was stout and strong. The door opened slowly, inviting Nortrom in.

The interior was reduced as well. It lacked the massive library, the solar model, the paintings, and the constantly hovering army of writing tools. The scrying mirrors were gone, as were the opaque windows, and most importantly of all, the heavy oak doors that had once led to Kael’s chambers were conspicuously missing. In its place was the little door that led to Nortrom’s room, which swung open on its squeaky hinge as if to wave hello.

The tower had all its luxuries. Silk pillows were still around, as were the heavy desks and armchairs Kael had favored so much. The only thing that was missing was the mage himself. Every piece of him that he’d left in the tower was gone and the walls were blank. Even the diameter of the tower was smaller, no longer having to accommodate the constant projects that littered every possible corner and curve. It was like his presence had been wiped away.

Slowly, a small ottoman trotted it over. It offered a place for Nortrom to set down his belongings. Afghans from the couches floated over and wrapped around him, pulling him in before he changed his mind and left the tower once he realized that it could not simulate the home Kael had made.

The smell of tea and food began. Hot water ran in the bath. An armchair slid closer, asking to be sat on.

 

And Nortrom took the offered comfort gratefully. He let himself fall into the armchair, trusting the door to shut and his belongings to be stowed away carefully. The warmth of the afghan couldn’t simulate the warm cushions and Kael’s body against him, but it gave him something to hold as he finally allowed himself to feel what brewed in his chest. 

With a pathetic little choked gasp, tears began to run down his face. It was really over. The look of the tower only intensified the notion. Kael was gone, and he would not come back. That was it. Nortrom’s life was a dark leftover now that the Invoker had left it, and it crushed his heart to know that his love was out there, without the slightest of regrets for leaving him behind.

Nortrom didn’t leave that armchair for hours to come, soaking the fabrics with tears and listening to his own sobbing bounce around the walls. No one would witness how pathetically hurt he was.

_ Idiot. You knew it would happen.  _

Scolding himself didn’t ease the pain, but crying it out at least exhausted him to a point where he couldn’t think anymore.


	23. Chapter 23

Years passed.

Kael continued to travel. He saw the world all over again. Looked at the new cities that had sprung up since his latest pass over. Browsed libraries for more collections. He met new people, studied them, and moved on. Without a mortal by his side to keep track of the time, he no longer remembered how quickly it all passed away.

Day and night. Night and day. He flew, settled, and then moved on. He went to places where old acquaintances were already dead, and made some new contacts. The old lodestone was replaced by moonstone that size of his fist - he’d always been partial to moonstone. It was polished and then infused with magic. The tower that sprung up was better than his old one, more powerful and beautiful. It lacked the old one’s personality, but Kael barely noticed as long as it kept ferrying his tea and quills.

Two years passed before he found the Archronicus on his desk. It was not supposed to be there. It’d disappeared after he told Nortrom to leave.

So history was being made?

Interesting. Kael opened it up, flipped through its brittle pages. He saw the old entries he already read, and kept going until he found the very last page.

_ In the new dawn, a new immortal was born to join his timeless fellows in their unending observation of the world. _

Just that. Only a sole sentence at the top of an otherwise blank page. But Kael needed nothing more.

He slammed the Archronicus shut.

He would find this immortal.

-x-

Years passed.

Maena grew up. Taller, curvier, more powerful. The last of the baby fat she shed with her innocence in the desert, and she’d been forced to grow up hard and strong in the barrens. Isla, land of the dead, gave her food and clothes to survive. The Bleeding Hills gave her refuge. She drifted from place to place, never staying long, as she honed her magical talent.

Every day, she woke up and moved on to a new place. Mercenary jobs gave her the money to buy food, and clothes, and tools. She carved a new staff for herself out of a branch from a magic tree in an orchard that belonged to the trolls. She fought people of all ages, races, and types and finally grew comfortable with killing at twenty.

She stayed clear of the Ancients war, no matter how enticing the sound of it was. She would make her own way in the world.

Every night, before she slept, she said a prayer.

_ “Nortrom, the Silencer. Kael, the Invoker. Nortrom, the Silencer. Kael, the Invoker.” _

The names she could not forget. Those were the names she thought of when she killed. The names she thought of when she used her magic. Those were the names she would remember until she died, or until she got her revenge.

-x-

Time passed.

Kael traveled the world but found no new immortal. He killed a few in his fury, but the newest immortal was nowhere to be found. There was a change to the entry, but only a little.

_ In the new dawn, a new immortal was born to join his timeless fellows in their unending observation of the world. Made by magic, he _

And nothing more.

Kael continued to look.

-x-

Revenge was a little girl’s dream. Twenty-five years old and a little wiser, Maena stopped her angry prayers. She still held onto the kernel of rage inside her, but she was no longer consumed by it. As he mind lightened, her magic strengthened. Magic needed sacrifice, and she gave up her hate.

She moved on from the Bleeding Hills. The Hoven. Candoness. The Ivory Isles. She toured them all.

There were sightings of the Invoker, but he was still beyond her. Even with the title of magus, Maena would not be any match for him. She needed more power.

The Silencer was gone. Dead, maybe. Maena didn’t know, and she was surprised at the surge of anger that brought in her. He wasn’t supposed to die, not until she had her answers.

The last destination was Elze. Maena shouldered her pack and prepared for the long walk north.

-x-

Time did not heal all wounds. 

That was the lesson Nortrom had grown to learn from the passage of it. Hours, days, weeks. They were all painful for a long, long time. He never dared to gaze skyward, or actively try to hear news of the Invoker.

Routine did a better job than time.

Nortrom found himself doing odd bits of mercenary work on the days that anger dominated his mood. The feeling of blood and battle only did so much to alleviate his grief, however, and it wasn’t long before he began to brood again. 

His bouts of creativity were short-lived things. Projects a futile effort, though some endured almost a month before he slumped again.

Years passed before he could spend a day without thinking of Kael. When he finally believed the grief over his lost love had passed, it came back, triggered by the smallest notion, the sight of a blonde elf, or the mention of the Invoker in some passing conversation.

Nortrom stayed in Elze. Out of convenience, he told himself. His heart spoke differently.

_ This is where he left me. This is where he’d come back to if he wanted to look for me. I’ll wait. I’ll wait until I die. For him. _

Waiting for the impossible, however, didn’t improve Nortrom demeanour or temper. The people of Elze dearly wished he would move on, become a hermit on someone else’s outskirts, but Nortrom and his dark little tower remained, no matter how much pressure was applied or money offered.

 

Elze was a good sized kingdom. Maena spent some time touring its inner workings before she went to the job site. Ten thousand gold if she managed to boot the hermit on the city edges. Maena immediately took the offer and skipped out, ready to see what kind of fellow lived so close to the city and was so detestable that Elze wanted him gone so badly.

A tower.

Maena blinked when she got to it. A little tower with grey stone and nothing else around it, not even a barn or a stable or… anything. Just a well-maintained little tower looking entirely out of place.

“Anyone in?” she called.

 

Nothing stirred. Nortrom had a habit of ignoring visitors, and currently, he was entirely engrossed in a big sketch of Kael on the battlefield of the Ancients. The tower had become a little more decorated over the years as Nortrom did his own recording. Of Kael. Everything he knew, remembered, had to be held in place somehow, fixated in time. The drawings had started out crude and terrible.

But by now, Nortrom had figured out the delicate touch needed to hold a brush, and how to make the wondrous body he recalled pressing to himself come to life on a canvas.

All around his living area, Kael dominated the walls. His hands, his face, even the multiple layers of his favourite robes...

 

Maena was not deterred. She stepped right up to the door and banged on it, using her fist to create some extra volume.

“Open up!” she yelled, “if no one is inside, I will kick this door down!”

Most people answered their doors quickly if damage was involved.

 

Nortrom put down the paintbrush and palette and scoffed in direction of the door. Who was going to be this persistent? Another cocky bounty hunter? Or maybe a traveller, thinking the tower a fitting place to sleep.

He’d make short work of whoever it was. Nortrom pulled on something less covered in paint and went to answer the door, silently questioning when the Lodestone would conjure him up a fence without a gate.

“You’ll lose a leg if you try.”

He snarled as he pushed the heavy oak door open.

 

“About time -  _ you _ !” Maena screeched as she jumped back. Her staff came to her hands and she puffed up in a way she hadn’t for nine years. Her eyes were wide, taking in the sight of the Silencer.

Still tanned. Still lined. Still imposingly tall and broad. He was wearing some kind of robe, not armored at all, and had no visible weapons on him. The years hadn’t treated him well, she saw on closer examination. The lines on his face looked deeper, as if engraved further into his face.

How was he just  _ standing _ here, in this bloody tower?!

“Is  _ he _ with you as well?” Maena demanded. “Where is the Sci - the Invoker?”

 

Nortrom wanted to flinch at her volume alone, but it was her words that had him shut his eyes, pinch the bridge of his nose and suck in a deep breath.

Out of all the ghosts of his past, this one had to come haunt his doorstep? The red hair, the boisterous voice...oh, he remembered the little girl from the Wastes alright. The child of the Burning Cabal. The one that ran.

“How did...you find me?”

The question about Kael was redundant. His presence would illuminate the entire tower, if it had been here. Nortrom’s heart cringed anyway.

 

“There was a posting with a ten thousand gold reward to evict you,” Maena said. She looked around the tower, frowning. “I didn’t know it would be  _ you _ .”

Her staff came up a fraction. She saw no hide nor hair of the Invoker - was the Silencer alone? After all, there’d been no recent sighting of the mage in  _ this _ area… what were they doing apart?

“Shouldn’t you be off with the Invoker in his carriage, ruining people’s lives?” she asked pointedly.

 

Nortrom lacked the energy to give her the scathing reply she deserved. Instead he drew back, hand still on the door as if he considered slamming it in her face. She didn’t really deserve more words from him. He had managed to speak as little as possible for the last five years.

But the mention of Kael...it hurt. Still. Gods, he was not finished with that mage. Once again, the wild notion to chase after him surfaced, only to crash back into the swamp of whence it came. No. Kael didn’t want it, or him.

“He’s gone. Has been for near ten years.”

Ruining lives or no, somewhere out there, Kael continued to exist as Nortrom withered away in his tower. His grip on the door got weaker and his gaze distant. What did he care for this mage on his porch? It wasn’t the one he was waiting for.

 

“...oh.” Maena shuffled her feet.  _ Weren’t you two lovers? _ She was going to ask, but something told her that wasn’t the right question to be asking. “I… saw him a few times,” she offered instead. If he hadn’t seen the Invoker for ten years, her news would be assuredly more recent than anything he had.

“Let me in?”

 

“Why would I let you in?” Nortrom didn’t flinch outwardly, completely passive to her mentions of the sightings of Kael. What did it matter? If the Invoker didn’t come back for him, it still held true that he had no desire for Nortrom.

“Aren’t you here to try and evict me?”

Which, by the way, would be pretty futile considering his abilities had not dulled in the past nine years. Much the opposite, Nortrom was still painfully and sharply aware of what he could do.

 

“That was before I knew who you were.” Maena looked past him and into the tower. The magic here felt similar to the carriage, if missing its most imposing passenger. What had gone down between these two? She itched to know, but there was no way the Silencer would just  _ tell _ her.

“I want to ask you a few questions, at least. About what happened before.”

It still haunted her. That day in the barrens had been the day her life had irrevocably changed, all thanks to the distant cruelty of two elves too far removed to even care about what they were doing. The questions that popped up since then still bothered her.

“I won’t take long.”

 

“...You want to  _ talk _ about the Cabal?”

It wasn’t gone from Nortrom’s memory, and it had not taken on a different character, but it was often the pivotal point of his conversations with himself. About the lengths he went to for Kael. About how easily manipulated he had been. How willingly.

Sometimes, it pulled an ounce of shame from him. He was glad Magina had never chosen to visit him. He’d feel ashamed before the purity of morals present in the Anti-Mage.

Nortrom stepped back, inclining his head for Maena to come inside. If she changed her mind to vengeance, he’d deal with it.

 

“What else?” Maena said as she stepped further inside. The first thing that struck her was all the  _ pictures _ .

The walls were full of them. Pencil, paint, color, black and white - all of it around a central figure. The Invoker. Long blonde hair, white eyes, hard and beautiful features. He stared down at her from the walls, glaring, and Maena looked down at her feet instead. There had to be hundreds of those pictures.

Perhaps it was good that she did not ask about what happened.

“You did ruin them, you know. Killed some. Took other’s magic. A lot of them killed themselves after you left. A lot starved because they relied on magic to survive.” Did she expect him to care? No. But she wanted him to know, at least, about the atrocities that’d visited her people after he’d sucked them dry of their magic. “Was it worth it? Whatever you were after, was it worth it?”

 

Nortrom followed her back to central part of the ground floor. The space entirely covered in pictures of his beloved. 

He didn’t really consider what she might think of him, or them. It just didn’t matter to him now.

Her words were, as predicted, regarding the consequences of his undeniably poor decisions. He’d been the one to suggest having the Cabal be subjects for his sealing, indirectly. And Kael had accepted easily. 

To know the mages died, or suffered still, didn’t help the twinges of regret that clung to his conscience. But in the face of his love for Kael, it seemed so viable. Anything and everything was permitted in love. Even committing atrocities.

“He is worth everything. Their lives didn’t matter.”

Only Kael did.

It wasn’t healthy, it wasn’t helpful, but that was Nortrom’s singular obsession.

“They lived and died in service to him. Isn’t that exactly what they wanted?”

 

“You’re wrong.” Maena turned around. Looked at the Silencer. He was still scary, she thought. Still terrifying. But underneath all that, he was still an elf. Not like the immortal creature that the Invoker seemed to be. The Silencer was as mortal as she was, as fallible to time and age and loss as she was.

“We wanted to live. We wanted to have a home to grow up in, grow old in, and we thought the Scion would be a good leader who would take us to prosperity. The stories of him made him seem kind and good.” But he wasn’t, as it turned out. As they learned far, far too late.

“It was our fault for calling him. For believing in him. But him turning on us was never our fault.” Maena frowned. The tower seemed  _ alive _ , somehow. “Your story isn’t so different from ours. You loved him, like we did. But you won, where we lost.”

_ Until now _ , she added silently. “You were right when you warned me. You told me my faith in him would get us all killed. Did you heed your own advice too?”

Probably not, judging by all the pictures.

 

It hadn’t gotten him killed, per se, but no, Nortrom did not heed his own advice not to fall too deeply in love. Of course he’d failed at the one thing that had been certain from the beginning.

He tried to keep focused on the Cabal and their terrible fate. He did not regret it. He knew what mage circles got like if left to grow and prosper. But they probably also could have scattered the Cabal instead of crushing it. Could have, and yet didn’t.

Kael never cared that they worshipped him, just as he didn’t that Nortrom would give every inch of himself for him.

It was similar, yes. But absolutely incomparable.

“It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing I could have done to prepare myself for my fate. It was inevitable. But you persevered against the odds... Is it vengeance you want? My life is not mine to give.”

He would kill her if he had to.

 

“I don’t care anymore to kill you,” Maena said after a pause. She’d realized it years back, once she realized she wanted to be happy more than she wanted her revenge. Holding onto anger  _ hurt _ . “I think you deserve to be punished, but I don’t care enough to be the one to do that.”

A teacup floated over to her. Surprised, she accepted it. Mint tea?

“All I want to know now is why you let me live. You don’t like me. You certainly had no problems with killing and hurting other people so it wasn’t about your morals. Why me? Why not the people who would have listened if you told them to go?”

 

“I didn’t know any of them,” it was a simple explanation, if a poor one. Maena had only become a name and face he remembered because she had come to attack him, specifically, in the name of her useless father. 

“It could have been any of the others. But I bothered to warn you. I gave you a chance.”

Why? He couldn’t really form an answer for it. Because he wanted to be merciful? Because he granted a chance he didn’t have?

Nortrom too received a cup of tea, though it was fragrant and sweet.

“And you have become a magus. Who relies on magic, I would bet. So my warning was in vain.”

 

“You’ve never accused the Invoker of relying too much on magic,” she snapped. Magic or not, that did not mean she was incapable. She could fight with her staff, if she had to, and did on more than one occasion. “You’re not a good person.”

That was it, wasn’t it? Neither the Silencer nor the Invoker were good people. They were… uncaring. She would say they were  _ beyond _ it, but that wasn’t true. They just stopped caring about morals. The Invoker because he was immortal, and the Silencer because he loved the Invoker.

“You and him… the Knights… what’s the difference? You all hurt people in the end, because you think you’re all more important. Where is the Invoker, if not here? I bet the same happened here too. You said you loved him - did you leave, or did he leave  _ you _ ?”

 

Nortrom didn’t see fit to answer that. What happened between him and Kael was private, personal to the highest degree and none of this woman’s business. It didn’t even pertain to her reason for wanting to speak in the first place. Nortrom’s love had not ended the Cabal. Kael’s wish for subjects had.

And he still held fast to the only moral that had survived this long; if a mage was tyrannical of land or people, he was a bad mage...Kael excluded. He just did as he saw fit. He did not bear the greed of mortal beings.

“I don’t know where he went.”

He wished he did. Severely.

“I do.” Maena sipped her tea - good stuff, even if she wanted to throw it in the Silencer’s face. “I heard he was in Augury in the west. I saw him in Stom, but didn’t stay long enough to chat.” Mostly because she’d been working up the nerve to attack him until he left, but he didn’t need to know that. She wasn’t even going to bother haggling for the information - what would she want from this broken down elf anyway?

“I thought you two would stick together. You seemed certain of it. Didn’t you tell me you were  _ lovers _ ?”

 

“We were.”

No, Nortrom was. Kael never loved him. The only one feeling affection in their relationship had been Nortrom, despite the many vivid memories he had of Kael smiling, touching him gently, sharing kisses that were nothing but fond.

The cup shook in his sudden, tense grip.

“We...”

Never really were lovers. He was something of a disposable pet. He knew this. He knew this ten years ago. Nortrom sucked in a deep breath desperately. Could he ever let go of Kael? Could he ever be happy without him?

 

“Doesn’t seem like it. Love is a two-way street.” And this sad desperation wasn’t anything like love. Obsession, maybe. For such a terrifying person, Nortrom was a little pathetic too.

She put her teacup down and got up. Her desire to stay here was waning by the second and the pay wasn’t anywhere good enough to make her consider fighting him. If he wanted to stay here and be a sad elf pining after the Invoker, that was his business.

“Thanks. I’m going now. You stay here, if it makes you happy. I hope we don’t meet again.”

She collected her staff, and left. Elze should have an inn to stay in. This job was a bust, but there had to be something else for her skills.


	24. Chapter 24

Her departure was welcomed, because Nortrom relapsed into a dark mood once he was alone. The subject of Kael was beyond sensitive, it was an open, festering wound.

One that required more than simply ignoring it to heal, which Nortrom simply wasn’t capable of.

It wasn’t the last time Maena came to the tower, despite her dismissal. Nortrom opened the door, each time determined not to listen to her speak at all, and failing pathetically each time. She brought up what he didn’t want to think about. The wrongs he had committed for Kael. The path he had forsaken and abandoned for the false promise of love.

Magina would be disgusted to know him now, of that, Nortrom was sure. The only friend in this world he had was a magic stone that took care of him lovingly as his home.

And wasn’t that just a terribly sad fate for the mighty Silencer?

 

A peculiar routine settled into place. Maena didn’t know what made her come back each time but some strange strain of self-loathing and anger at Nortrom. She didn’t want to kill him, but hurting him was still an option. Like clockwork, she came by and drank his mint tea and told him all the things he deserved to hear.

It didn’t make her feel better, but it needed to happen.

“How the mighty fall,” she said once, picking up one picture of the Invoker. “I bet you’re not the first person who pined after him like this.”

She left soon after that. The face he made had been too uncomfortable not to.

Today’s topic swung back to the Invoker, as it commonly did. “What if he comes back?”

 

“He won’t. He never does.”

Nortrom was some kind of masochist, he was quite sure. Each time he opened his door to Maena, she only served one purpose; to make him feel terrible. And it worked, each day, the loathing continued.

But even this feeling about Kael, this sort of angry, guilty disgust he had at himself, was worth feeling.

“Not in one lifetime.”

 

“What if anyway,” she insisted. “Just… hypothesis. He made you that armor set, didn’t he? Maybe he wants it back or something.”

To be honest, she wouldn’t come back for Nortrom. But who knew how evil immortal people thought? Maybe he missed having a pet attack dog. “Maybe he’s hurt, and needs help. Or he lost his magic to someone else… that’d be fitting.”

 

“He would never,” Nortrom snapped, gaze wandering among his many portraits of Kael. At least he’d increased his artistic skill over the years. Some of them were strikingly good and served to slice deeply into his heart each time he remembered that he wouldn’t get to see him again.

“You have no idea of the scope of his power. If he needed me...”

He would what, summon him like a forge spirit?

Nortrom debated the impossible in his head.

 

“You told me he was just an immortal elf, not a god. I bet he could die if you stabbed him where it hurts.”

Magic or no magic. Everyone died sometime. Maena regarded Nortrom, head tilted to the side. “I heard he’s gone from Augury. Moving east. Might appear in Elze, even. I plan on going to see. Will you come with me?”

 

Nortrom sucked in air, chest puffing out for a second. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see Kael? To confront him about his lost love, and how dare he dismiss Nortrom so easily when they had so much together?

Aaand he deflated a moment later. Kael would not care. He’d be unchanged as ever, gloriously beautiful and cold.

“No. He is done with me.”

 

“Suit yourself.” Maena went back to her tea. Time passed slowly for these stilted conversations, but she had a hunch that she was the only person Nortrom spoke to in all these years. Coming out here wasn’t so bad, even if it was to speak with this bastard. “So tell me about this new painting…”

-x-

The Wailing Mountains passed by under him. The land zipped by at high speeds but Kael paid little mind to it. His eyes were stuck to the last page of the Archronicus, watching the new words etch themselves onto the paper one by one. Three new sentences had appeared since ten years ago.

_ In the new dawn, a new immortal was born to join his timeless fellows in their unending observation of the world. Made by magic, he comes to join the side of another immortal in their longest vigil. Tied together by their immortal nature, they will exist when all else has fallen. All things are unsure - except they. Immortality _

The next word was  _ made _ and it the ink floated out of the page agonizingly slowly. The closer Kael got Elze, the faster the words appeared. For ten years, he’d searched. And now he was getting closer.

 

Elze had no idea of his coming and nor did anyone inside of the kingdom or its capital, where Kael had dumped Nortrom ten years prior.

It was a stormy day, and Nortrom’s mood was not bettered by today’s topic, though he managed to avoid a temper fit when speaking of the portrait he’d scrawled into this piece of parchment. It gave him something to speak of, the only thing that found his passion these days. Imitations of his beloved, terrible obsession.

 

The closer he got, the more words appeared. A full sentence was completed now. Good.

So this immortal was in the Kingdom of Elze. His carriage plowed through the clouds and Kael shoved his hand out, palm first, and manipulated the elements of the storm to get out of his way. Like a knife through butter, he sliced open a clear path through the clouds, leaving blue skies in his wake.

The lodestone piloted the carriage while he opened the way. Closer… closer…  _ there _ .

To say he was excited was an understatement. Kael always liked to see what other immortals had cropped up. Many times, his search found a failure or someone who did not deserve the gift of immortality, and he frequently killed them. More often, he found beings that were merely long-lived and not  _ truly _ immortal like he. But the search each time was a feverish investigation. Kael had to find if someone could be as permanent as he, when the whole world kept dying.

A tower could be seen below. A little figure was moving away from it, but the letters continued to appear so it could not be important by any means. The figure stopped when it saw the carriage descending in the middle of the strong beam of light that had squeezed out between the clouds, but darted away again when he showed no signs of stopping.

-x-

Maena saw the carriage and knew there was only one way to go about this - she ran. She had no desire to confront the Invoker now, or witness the reunion. To leave, right after the fight that had started because of her probing questions about the painting, was the best option.

So the Invoker came after all. Maybe Nortrom wasn’t  _ completely _ full of shit when he said they were lovers.

-x-

Maena’s departure followed the usual pattern and Nortrom was left with anger in his chest and a painting in his grasp that he was clawing his fingers into. She’d done it again. Peeled back the layers of depression and pulled out his wrath. It was her particular talent and maybe one day, Nortrom would in fact punish her for it. It was a mistake to let her live, even if she was the only company he had nowadays.

Maybe it was her hobby. Her pleasure to give him pain. Some part of him even believed he deserved it, to be reminded daily of suffering.

But it wasn’t guilt. It was the anger he craved, as it stretched out over the pain, the sheer endless eternity of it. An angrier balm Nortrom had never known.

Movement outside had the tower rustle a little, which was new. Nothing usually disturbed his Lodestone, and Nortrom had grown to use it as an early warning system; only strong magic could threaten his home.

Maybe Maena was brewing some sort of spell outside? Let her try and break through these walls, Nortrom would come down like a hell fury on anyone who would dare harm his tower.

With care, he hung the portrait back up.

The very stones seemed to tremble. Perhaps this was not Maena’s doing. Nortrom frowned, pulling on a thicker robe and reaching for his glaive on the stand by the door. 

Carefully, slowly, he pushed it open, 

With a clatter, he dropped his glaive. Oh, he could see what magic disturbed his tower. But how could this be?


	25. Chapter 25

The storm tried to resist Kael’s magic, but he refused to budge. The path he’d ripped open into the clouds widened, separating the thunderheads and pushing the storm apart. The light spirits shone brighter without the obstruction of the clouds diminishing their power, and the carriage glittered like a falling star as it slowly descended down to earth.

Holding the Archronicus in one hand, other hand gripping the reins for the spirits, Kael stood on the perch. He saw the tower - was that his destination? His goal?

As he lowered, the magic from the tower could be felt. It was a familiar one, well known through years, and the final puzzle piece clunked into place with an almost audible noise.

_ Nortrom _ .

Of course. The one who he’d left in Elze with his old lodestone. The Archronicus was not done with him, then, and he still had a mark to make on history.

_ In the new dawn, a new immortal was born to join his timeless fellows in their unending observation of the world. Made by magic, he comes to join the side of another immortal in their longest vigil. Tied together by their nature, they will exist when all else has fallen. All things are unsure - except they. Immortality is the last and first gift to be bestowed before the last stand begins. _

The final sentence completed itself as Kael watched. The title was beginning to appear on the entry as well.

_ The Immortals _ it said. Nothing more.

He waited, looking to see if more sentences would appear. None showed up. Was that it? Or did he still have more to look for? The entry being filled out the closer he got to Nortrom was no coincidence.

The carriage sighed as it pressed down on the wet grass. There was a soft sizzling noise when the light spirits alighted on delicate hooves, and steam curled around their shining bodies. Kael closed the book, and looked into a face he hadn’t seen for years.

“It appears there is still more to you to study,” Kael said.

 

Was this real? Nortrom heard the voice that haunted his dreams, saw the carriage he once missed as home, and most of all, looked into the face of the elf he still loved desperately. 

Who had come back, for whatever reason there might be. He stood in the doorway of his tower, also a gift from Kael, even if unintentional, and he felt his face crack open. Raw emotion burning away at the steadfast mask he bore. Anger only made up a tiny fraction of what he was feeling, most of it love, desperate and hungry, starved by ten years of missing this elf.

“...You came back for me?”

He had to know. Of course Kael’s words should tell him, but he had to make sure. It would be too easy to wake up from countless dreams just like this one.

 

“I did,” Kael confirmed. He stepped off the carriage slowly, approaching Nortrom like one would a wild animal. It’d only been… ten? years. Barely even a fraction of a normal elf’s lifetime, and a drop compared to Kael’s. He knew it’d been ten years, but it felt like only yesterday he told Nortrom to go.

Nortrom, who’d hardly changed. Still dark and prematurely lined, still the same old naive one he’d left outside the gates of Elze.

The Archronicus weighed heavily in his inner pocket, and Kael was more aware of it than ever. The book had stayed with him for years, recording its latest entry agonizingly slowly and only finishing when he came close to Nortrom. He suspected it was Elze, at first, but the words slowed when he came to the kingdom. It was, undeniably, this elf who was the cause.

He stopped just short of the doorway. “Are you going to just stare, or let me in?”

 

Nortrom moved to the side slowly, awkwardly, unable to take his eyes off of Kael. The elf was radiant as ever, and completely unchanged by time. Nortrom wanted to choke on his beauty and the pounding heart in his chest. Weakly, he gestured into the tower, which didn’t seem classy enough to house Kael at this point. It had served well as Nortrom’s home, but it was far cry from the glorious tower it had been for the Invoker.

“I...”  _ I’ve missed you. I’ve cursed you. I love you madly, still. _

None of it left his mouth. Instead, he silently gathered up his glaive and shut the door behind Kael. The storm had only paused for the Invoker’s arrival and within moments, rain drummed on the roof.

“I’ve thought of you.”

A lot, every day, obsessively. But that much was evident in the decoration of the room, hundreds of Kaels glaring down at them in various mediums.

 

“Evidently.” The word was weighted, drawn out - it contained a whole sentence within each syllable. Kael walked deeper into the tower and examined the portraits that stared down at them. Many of them were poorly done, with features too harsh to be realistic and lifeless eyes, but the most recent ones, close to the floor, were masterful. Kael examined these the longest. There was still the touch of the amateur in them, around the smudged and dirty lines that surrounded the edges of the eyes, but they glared with an impressive amount of heat.

Kael turned, looked around the tower. It was not the tower he knew. Everything felt a little more diminished, naked as if he’d taken its clothes when he’d stripped out his belongings from the magic of the lodestone. He raised his hand, and the new lodestone from the carriage zipped into his open palm.

“This will not do,” he murmured, and pressed the lodestone into the wall. They rippled as the lodestone sunk in, suddenly as liquid as the ocean surf, and reformed. The entire tower twisted, alive and surprised, and began to grow anew as Kael returned to his domain. Light and gold and sparks of magic raced between the stones, transforming them into marble and platinum. The tower rose levels as shelves thudded into existence, unfolding out of the very walls that bubbled and cracked to give rise to more stone. Around them, the soft sound of the old stone singing as it found its master reverberated. The old and new stones came together, bound by a golden cage as their magics mingled and shared.

“Much better,” Kael said when it was all done. The tower was set back to its former splendour, tall and proud, and thicks veins of magic coursed through the marbled walls. He turned to Nortrom, and beckoned him.

“Come. Sit.”

Books flew overhead, finding their new homes, and Nortrom’s little door was shoved to the side as a new set of double doors, grand and heavily carved, took up residence on most of the southern curve of the tower. The uglier pictures of Kael burnt up and the sooty flakes were thrown out into the wind, and the old paintings replaced them. The beautiful ones were collected into a neat pile for Kael to admire later. He only treasured the beautiful results.

A tea cup flew into Kael’s outstretched hand as he sat in his favorite armchair. He crossed his legs, making himself at home with such ease and casualness that it was like he’d never left at all. 

 

It was disconcerting, how easily Kael moved himself back into the tower and took over everything. Nortrom was shell-shocked, still standing awkwardly at a distance to the returned centre of his world. Everything revolved around Kael, as if his life had been on pause for ten years and nothing he did or thought mattered.

Kael had come back to study him further. Not because he missed him, or loved him. Something in Nortrom withered back into the shady place it rested in, and the desperate urge to throw himself against Kael, sobbing, snuffed itself like a candle put out.

Even with the backdrop of many painted portraits of this elf himself, he could pretend to remain dignified.

“What do you want to learn of me that you haven’t already?”

This was as impersonal as he could get, sick heart aching for Kael’s touch and affection.

 

“The Archronicus seems to think otherwise,” Kael said. He patted the book where it rested against his breast, snug, and sipped his tea. Pomegranate and grapefruit, he mused approvingly. A good, tart blend. “It started a new entry, but stopped after one sentence. It only continued writing when I got here, so it clearly must have to do with you.”

He re-crossed his legs on the other side, and regarded Nortrom with an expectant air. “Sit,” he insisted again, now a little annoyed. Nortrom was usually so obedient, what was wrong with him now? A brief consideration went to his departure - but that had only been ten years, and Kael had come back. How many people got to have  _ that _ honor?

“I want to see this entry filled out properly. It has something to do with you, so I must be here and see what happens.”

 

Ah. Of course. There was the explanation of Kael’s miraculous concern. Nortrom swallowed down bitter anger as he moved to obey, though he made no motion to close the distance as he sat down in his usual chair. He didn’t feel like drinking tea, or pretending he hadn’t suffered every day for ten years. Kael’s callous approach was everything that Maena sadistically clarified for him for weeks now, and it didn’t feel good to know she was right somehow.

“...May I see the entry?”

He could do this. If he could keep himself on edge, aware that Kael could flitter away at any given moment, maybe he could keep himself from more pain. No matter how desperate he was to feel that silken, cool skin beneath his fingers.

 

“Here.” A flick of his fingers sent a scroll at him. Kael jealously guarded the Archronicus but he’d copied down each entry since their appearance. The latest one was short, and space had been afforded on the end of the scroll for anything else that might appear.

“It’s nothing much. I looked for the immortal it mentions, but there is no sign of them yet. Either we’re looking at the birth of a new god, somehow, or the book is doing what everyone who studied it thought impossible and is predicting the future.”

 

“An immortal?” What did he have to do with an immortal? Nortrom had no one around him for long, why would the Archronicus predict something like that in his vicinity? Nevermind that it was only this book that had brought Kael back. Was he so desperate for a companion that could keep up with his longevity? 

Nortrom felt jealousy tug vaguely at him before he quashed it down. They were not lovers, they were not even what they had before. There was nothing and no one to be jealous of, save for maybe this unknown factor.

“I don’t understand what I have to do with this.”

Maybe...he was supposed to produce this immortal? Nortrom felt queasy at the thought. What if the book was predicting some sort of child of his?

 

“Neither do I. But I intend to find out.” Kael gave him an indulgent smile. “Imagine  _ my _ surprise when I find that it is about you. Quaint, isn’t it?”

An fellow immortal… what an interesting idea. Kael wanted to track them down and see what sort they were - and Nortrom was the key to it. He wondered, briefly, if  _ Nortrom _ was the immortal. But that was silly. Nortrom wasn’t naturally immortal and who would make  _ him _ immortal? There was no point, no need. Kael didn’t even remember the spell, so it wasn’t  _ him _ .

“You don’t need to understand. Just follow me, as you do.”

 

“As I  _ did _ .”

Nortrom disagreed. He did need to understand. He wasn’t about to deliver Kael his next subject of study, so long before the end of his life. He wasn’t that generous. The Invoker didn’t even show an ounce of loss, even though Nortrom had been nothing short of devoted. He was beginning to understand the bitterness in Indra, in countless others. It hurt. Kael didn’t need to love him, but it would have been nice to know he was at the very least, vaguely appreciated.

All of their moments together counted for nothing, as this reunion proved.

“I’m not keen on adventuring anymore. It has left a sour note on my tongue.”

 

Kael frowned at him, and was about to question just  _ when _ exactly he changed his mind so drastically - then the answer came to him. Ah. Right. Mortals tended to get upset over being told to leave. Kael could recall whole generation of angry subjects who acted like he betrayed them because their time was up. It was all just…  _ tiresome _ .

“You are upset with me,” Kael concluded calmly. A little disappointed, perhaps. Just what of this was so surprising to Nortrom? Had Kael ever  _ lied _ to him about what Kael wanted out of him? No. It was only his fantasies that were betrayed - everyone wanted to believe they were special, and struggled to accept that they were  _ not _ .

“You told me you would follow me anywhere,” Kael reminded, “that you would live to fulfil me.”

Mortal promises, dust to dust. Why was he always disappointed when they all, inevitably, reacted like this?

 

“I did. You told me I had given you everything you wished to learn of me. I have no idea how I am supposed to give you an immortal.”

He didn’t want to fulfil some half-given promise that the Archronicus had made for him. Kael would be disappointed that he had wasted the effort to come and see Nortrom once more and the Silencer’s heart would not bear much more of it.

“I have had my time with you. The book must be wrong, or it is someone within the city you seek. You have no need of me anymore.”

 

“I will find out myself. You don’t have to do anything particular, unless I tell you to.” Nortrom was sounding more and more angry. Vehement. Kael wasn’t so easily deterred, however. His interest was piqued, and nothing short of death was going to keep him away from his studies. He wanted to  _ find _ this immortal, as soon as he could.

 

“So just like that? You want me to travel with you again?” Nortrom could do it. It was what he’d been waiting for, wasn’t it? Little did it matter that it wasn’t exactly as he dreamed it to be, but true romance had died a long time ago. Kael returned for him and Nortrom knew he wouldn’t stay here in Elze if he had the chance.

Even if nothing was the same.

“I will. I cannot refuse you anything. I just worry you will be disappointed once more.”

 

“Let me be the judge of that.” Kael rose up from his armchair and walked to Nortrom. Objects moved out of the way as surely as the sea parted, leaving no obstruction but distance between them. Kael leaned down and the embroidered sleeves of his robe fell to drape across the armrests with a whisper of stiff, expensive fabric as he bent. One thin pale hand rested on his arm, and the other on his knee, both holding and supporting. He leaned in, a twinkle in his eye.

“You've rarely disappointed me. Even now, you prove to be worthy of further attention. Why worry, and ruin what could be? What happens shall happen anyway.”

Kael could leave him again. He could not. But Nortrom would not be able to control that. A leaf should float along the wind, and appreciate the journey for what it is, not what it wasn't.

 

He already knew he’d accept, but Nortrom had been sure this time he could manage to establish some terms of their shared journey. He couldn’t. Kael was here, his cool touch on Nortrom, his beautiful, distant eyes on Nortrom, his attention once more recaptured by the same elf.

Had this ever happened to any of Kael’s companions? Probably not. If so, there was no record kept of such a companion.

Nortrom cursed himself for his inability to defy Kael.

“You already know I won’t say no.”

 

“That is not the same as saying yes.” Kael’s thumb rubbed circles into Nortrom’s arm as he moved, shifted his robe back, and sat on his lap. Thread-of-gold and painted herons rustled across Nortrom’s simpler dress as Kael rested his head on his shoulder, as if a decade had not disturbed this routine and he was just resuming another evening together. He closed his eyes, as if greatly exhausted, tucked his hands into his sleeves, and pulled his knees up to wind his ankles around Nortrom’s still-frozen body.

“You are the only person I’ve ever come back for,” he said, almost like a consolation prize. “You question my return - you are upset because my return was not a result of great loss or love on my part. But you knew that such a thing was never possible. The love you mortals exalt so much is meaningless to me. The only thing in this world that is certain - the only thing  _ I _ value - is discovery.”

 

If Kael would just be silent and make his moves like this, Nortrom could fall to the illusion that the ancient, immortal mage simply didn’t understand that his readiness for affection was, essentially, his form of love.

But Kael saw need to explain himself, and even that was far more than Nortrom expected of him. How could he not wind his arms around the elf’s body? How could he not lean in to take some of Kael’s scent? How could he stay angry when he’d known it was his own damn fault all along? How could he be angry now that he knew, deeply, that Kael didn’t understand mortal love for all of his long years?

He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. My anger...it is difficult to accept your own mistakes. I should not have blamed you. Every step along the way, you warned me not to fall for you. I did anyway. I’m still a fool in love with you, but...I only wish to stay by your side until I’m not in this world anymore. Being away from you is nothing but misery. I will come with you again if you would have me.”

 

“Then keep being interesting. Now stop with all this talk of love before I grow bored again.” Kael craned his neck just enough to seek out a kiss. Nortrom’s brand of physical affection had never gone amiss for him - Kael wanted to preen under it again. Around them, the tower swayed in the storm outside, but magic held it steadfast and not even a whisper of wind could be felt inside.

Kael looked up at him through his lashes slyly, “You will still have to earn forgiveness, at any rate. It is good to understand your mistakes, but you must still redeem yourself.”

 

“Redeem myself?” Nortrom could still barely grasp that Kael was here, let alone back in his lap, giving him the look that he understood to mean that the Invoker wished to be bedded and pampered. But it would be nice to make use of this generous mood to clarify things between them.

Kael wanted him back. The notion alone made Nortrom weak, so very weak. His conscience had taken on Maena’s voice to scold him for his pathetic weakness. She was right. He was terrible, for loving a terrible elf like Kael.

“How would you be most pleased with me?”

 

“By changing venues to a more appropriate location,” Kael said, and nodded in the direction of his bedroom. After that, things quickly tangled up into a mess that lasted several hours.


	26. Chapter 26

The Archronicus was at his bedside. Kael lay in bed, naked, watching the fat heavy moon raise her head over the forest through the window, and considered the book.

He had not put it on his nightstand. It’d been in the inner pocket of his robe, which had been thrown to the floor in their fit of passion. So the book itself had moved, on its own.

What was it trying to  _ tell _ him? Kael had checked its entry again once he realized it’d shifted, but there was no change to the bare bones paragraph. But all accounts of the Archronicus said that it only moved to where it was needed. What meaning did it hold? What secret was it trying to convey?

For a brief, contemptuous moment, Kael considered opening the window and throwing the book out. It passed, but the temptation was there. Instead, he rolled over back to his bed companion.

“What future do you hold?” he wondered aloud.

 

Nortrom lay sprawled in sheets he was sure he’d never feel again, the pleasant hum of several orgasms still sweeping through him gently. Kael was right back at his side, and to unite their flesh was only one of the many wonderful things that gave Nortrom the need to be so desperately in love.

It had already achieved the impossible; Kael came back to him. Despite his callous dismissal and rejection of Nortrom’s heart, he was right back here.

Perhaps, and Nortrom smiled at this secret thought, Kael did love him. He just couldn’t remember what it felt like. Perhaps this was just how he’d show it.

“A brighter one now that I am back at your side,” he whispered, nuzzling into the golden mess of Kael’s hair.

 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kael was still fixated on the Archronicus and the mystery it gave him. He found it infuriating to not be able to unravel its meaning. “This book and the last entry clearly has something to do with you. Have you been doing anything in the last ten years?”

A thought occurred to Kael. “... your magical void does not somehow render you immortal, does it?”

No way. That was impossible. But he was willing to consider it, if only because the damned book had led him all the way here and back into Nortrom’s embrace. 

 

“I have sustained enough wounds and aged to say that it does not.” Unless immortality also occurred by simply extending someone’s life, infinitely, letting them age and wither until they looked like mountain hermits. Nortrom wouldn’t much like to lose the black of his hair and line his skin with wrinkles. He’d make for a terrible immortal.

“Unless it will continue to age me...but is there a way of testing this, Kael?” 

The elf was still in his embrace and Nortrom silently revelled in having a firm grip on the Invoker’s naked body, skin pressed to his own.

 

“There is, but the potential of you being an immortal is low enough that I think we can sideline that idea. Nothing in my tests indicated the possibility of immortality for you, even an extended lifespan. Unless your void has a way of draining life force from people, you are limited to taking their magic only.”

Now  _ that _ was an idea. Had Nortrom ever tried that? Kael had heard of vampire-like individuals who could drain both mana and life - could Nortrom leverage his power similarly?

“No, you must be the key behind locating this immortal, or somehow the cause of their immortality. I must be here, to either enable the creation of the immortal or witness them. There is no other possible outcome.”

 

Nortrom didn’t much like that idea. Him being a witness and key in the creation of an immortal meant he was giving Kael a potentially eternal companion. And as much as he would like the thought of Kael not being alone, his hungering heart demanded he be that company and no one else. A selfish notion, yes, but one he couldn’t deny.

“I don’t suppose the Archronicus indicated where I am to find this special soul, did it?” It would make their journey easier, but also shorter, so in a way, he preferred the cryptic nature of the message.

 

“Nothing at all,” Kael said, sounded irate. The worst kind of predictions were the vague, cryptic ones. They were simply  _ irritating _ . Kael had better things to do than puzzle out some half-wit’s riddles, and the Archronicus was quickly losing favor the longer it stubbornly refused to show more words. “It will be our own work that unravels  _ this _ particular mystery.”

For now, at least, Kael didn’t want to preoccupy his time thinking about it. The tower pulled the Archronicus out to store in a shelf, and Kael kissed Nortrom. “Let’s continue,” he said simply, and pulled Nortrom closer.

 

-x-

 

What followed was essentially the happiest times of Nortrom’s life. Kael and he travelled alright, and each destination was some sort of vestige for knowledge that Kael had known centuries before. They never involved themselves as much as they had with the Burning Cabal, again, although there were plenty of sects of mages that viewed Kael in a similar light, with unending worship and blind trust.

It had been too easy to fall back into the same old rhythm. To be Kael’s lover, despite his decision of not being so weak for him anymore, was far too tempting, and Nortrom didn’t resist. He fell into bed, he worshipped Kael and eventually, the hurt of being left faded. In the light of Kael’s burning beacon, everything faded. Nortrom found himself in tiny pursuits of his own knowledge; to discover if the Invoker truly had forgotten how to love, or if he was showering Nortrom in it unwittingly.

It was a difficult puzzle to solve, requiring years of observation, noting down the tiniest gestures and smiles, but Nortrom was willing to put in the time. Nothing else mattered like this to him. Never before had he been so sure of someone being his soulmate who showed so little emotional investment in return.

He made peace with Kael’s distance after forty years. The jealousy that raged within at the slightest deviation of Kael’s attention, well that faded too. No matter what morsel caught Kael’s interest, it was Nortrom who kept him company, Nortrom who lay with him in bed and listened to the most outlandish tales of Kael’s life, Nortrom that Kael sought when his hands trembled again from the burn of the arcane.

Another thirty years passed before Nortrom realised that dying at Kael’s side could be the best fate he could wish for. He’d grown well past the stage of being able to break away from the Invoker’s intoxicating company and have a life of his own. His friends were distant memories already, his vengeful nature rusted in the pursuit of happiness. He lessened his training routines, let the shield and glaive rest more than they had before. His armor, he rarely needed, though he diligently kept it pristine on its stand.

He could still fight if he had to, but the long years of his life began to wear on him physically. He couldn’t move as fast, the glaive was heavy in his hand, and his back wanted to bow under the strain of holding anything up. Things became much harder to do, and it was a difficulty adjusting to new limitations that the centuries laid upon him. His company in bed couldn’t continue to be the wild fits of worship and passion. They’d slowed to languid kissing and touching before the exhausted Silencer found sleep with Kael in his grasp. More often than not, his arms were empty when he awoke, Kael not having the patience to lay there all morning when he could be doing work on one of his many projects.

They never did find another immortal, nor meet any potential candidates. Nortrom wasn’t upset about it, though he knew Kael often glared at the entry in the Archronicus, which did not change. Nortrom didn’t mind. He was living what life he had wanted, and there was no greater fulfillment than that.

Perhaps the immortal they sought was no actual person, but rather, this. Perhaps these memories with him might be the immortal to keep Kael company. It was a dreamy notion, and probably not true, but it was a comfort when he looked in the mirror and saw an elf approaching his end.

Nortrom finally, gently requested a more tropical location to settle for a while, at the proud age of 193, and Kael was kind enough to oblige his aged companion. 

A lovely little hill, overlooking a beachfront and surrounded by a smattering of birches served as their current home location. The weather was pleasantly mild, and they were just far enough so that the noise of the small town downwind could not be heard. The tower stretched towards the sky, a monument of ancient elven architecture.

Nortrom could appreciate the beauty of it, especially from his new, favourite spot to read, a small bench in the shade of the slim trees, overlooking the sandy beach and turquoise waves lapping at the shore.

It was easy to forget the frail nature of his hands, the grey in his hair and the deep lines on his face like this. Surrounded by beauty and Kael, Nortrom could accept this as his last home. Peace, quiet, beauty and Kael’s intrigue. It may not be the most glorious end to his legacy, but his contentment came first.

He’d given his all to love Kael, and that was all he could do.

 

Over time, Nortrom settled into Kael’s life like a stone in the earth, managing to carve out his own shallow groove amidst everything else until it was clear that he was meant to stay. The tower stood proudly on its hilltop, overlooking cool groves of eucalyptus that cast long shadows when the sun dipped into the ocean. It’d grown a few more levels again after Kael took up painting in emulation of Nortrom and now its interior was covered with elaborate murals of formulas and magical knowledge. Whimsy also hit him, at times, and they could be seen where the murals turned to richly colored depictions of foreign lands and exotic creatures.

The highest deck of the tower was converted into an observatory. A scarlet dragon curled around the stairs that led up into it, snout blooming with fire that turned into gold-painted stars whose purpose was to decorate the walls of the aptly named star-deck. Further pursuits pushed Kael to experiment further with magic and art. He infused paintings with his magic, enchanted hundreds of little carvings, then finally turned to Nortrom for a body as his next canvas.

His back was soon covered with ink. Kael took inspiration from elvish texts when he started putting them in and his work was meticulous, slow, and eye-wateringly detailed.

It took years as Kael’s mind found more and more ways to occupy itself. He took Nortrom’s presence in his life as an expected fact, as appropriate as the tower itself, and made no more demands for him to depart after the first. His eyes passed over Nortrom’s slowing form - he wasn’t due to die yet, Kael would  _ know _ . A few grey hairs and a slower body meant little.

It was only when Nortrom began to  _ really _ slow that he took notice. The lack of sex barely tipped him off - his cravings weren’t  _ so _ strong that he took great notice of rejections - and once they slowed down, Kael stopped looking for it, interest waned.

It was another morning like any other. Nortrom was sleeping in again, while Kael sat next to him, back against the headboard, irritably flicking through the Archronicus. No new entries but, worse still, the previous entry was  _ erasing _ itself.

That made no sense. That  _ never _ happened. Kael’s frustration quickly built the longer he parsed the pages and he still lacked answers.

 

The loud crinkle of paper pages being turned by an impatient, irritated hand had Nortrom wake up slowly. So did the ache in his arm from sleeping on it for too long, but it was mostly the rustle. Kael was still in bed with him, which always warmed his heart. Slowly, too slowly for his own taste, he sat up and shuffled himself along so he could glance at the book.

“Is it still disappearing?” he asked wiping over his face and running his hair back into a lazy braid. The grey dominated it now, only a few black strands remaining.

 

“Yes,” Kael said darkly, watching the ink on the page fade dot by dot. It had happened so slowly that he barely caught it when it first began, but now its change could be seen clearly. The whole last sentence was nearly gone, leaving blank paper where it was, but Kael saw no change in the other entries. Only the last one regarding the immortal was fading away.

Why?

Who the hell  _ knew _ ?

Again, the tempting thought of throwing the damn book out occurred to him. He wouldn’t but he really, really wanted to.

“This is ridiculous,” Kael said as he shut the book, as if denying visibility would slow the disappearance any more. “This has never happened before. What is that supposed to mean - that the event it recorded isn’t happening? Will it no longer happen?”

 

“Maybe the immortal changed his mind?” Nortrom reached out a hand to gently pat Kael’s thigh, sighing with disappointment. It would have been something to witness in his old age, the birth of a new immortal to shine on in the world. His jealousy had long since died out.

“Maybe that’s why it’s being undone. The immortal decides not to be so. There are some qualities of mortal life...maybe they convinced him.”

 

“Don’t be silly,” Kael dismissed him. What mortal would choose to stay that way? That was just ridiculous - there was something else at play here, clearly. Was history being rewritten? Why had this been predicted, then, if it was being taken away now? How had this never happened  _ before _ ?

Kael leaned into Nortrom, scowling. All his years of searching had amounted to nothing - old wives’ tales and urban legends about smoke and mirrors from talentless magicians with less magic in their whole selves than Kael’s thumb.

“Something is not going as the book predicted. But the book does  _ not _ predict the future. So the history it originally meant to predict happened when the entry was first written. Now, it is erasing itself - so the entry is no longer viable. It pertains to us. You. The Archronicus would not stay if it did not.”

 

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.” Nortrom sighed again, both grateful to the book that kept Kael at his side, and angry on his behalf for this unsolved mystery. It had been eating away at the elf throughout the time spent together and Nortrom was not selfish enough to be satisfied with that.

He brushed through Kael’s hair, slowly, as he tried to ready himself to get up.

“Maybe the Archronicus enjoys your misery. I certainly do not.” He placed a kiss on the Invoker’s head, before gently turning from him and swinging one leg at a time out of bed. He’d have a visitor today, as the letter he’d received months ago dictated.


	27. Chapter 27

The bed nudged him straight before the bed sheets fell back down again. Kael got up as well, though with far more indignation as he stalked out. The mystery of the disappearing entry had pushed to his last nerves as even his great intelligence could not parse out the why’s of it, and not  _ knowing _ something was the only thing that could genuinely upset Kael. The door opened to let him out in a flurry of robes, Archronicus tucked under his arm, so he could dig through his library for another round of useless research.

Behind him, ignored by his furious track upwards, the tower helped Nortrom. The path to the door shortened and a chair sidled up, offering to carry him out. Unlike Kael, the tower seemed to be cognizant of the changes in its longest staying guest. It could not understand age, similarly to Kael, but it could understand growing feebleness.

 

Nortrom watched Kael go as he did every morning, before he made his own way to the main part of the tower. He wouldn’t let himself be ferried around on a chair, despite the more frequent tumbles he’d been taking. Age was making him graceless and exhausted all the time, and he couldn’t say he was too happy about it. At least Kael never seemed to notice or say anything. With his lover continuing to be a radiant, timeless, youthful beauty, Nortrom felt even less deserving of his attention, but the Archronicus persisted.

He had his own theories as to why the book was so cryptic with its entry, but Kael would definitely not appreciate them, so Nortrom only spoke to the silent tower of his ideas. 

Eventually, he made it downstairs, where he let himself rest for a moment. He couldn’t meet Magina in here, but going outside was an entire project by itself.

 

Many years ago, the Anti-Mage had been coded into the tower’s wards as one of the people not allowed in, no matter what, and those same instructions held up even now. Pink light shined when he stepped too close to the hard barrier and an alert was sent to Kael, who looked up from his irritable contemplation with immediate distaste. A scry showed him the man standing just outside the barrier, looking as disdainful as Kael felt, and Kael’s scowl - already deep enough - sank lower.

“Nortrom,” his disembodied voice called down from the library level, transported by magical acoustics, “be a dear and remove that. I don’t know how it wandered here, nor do I wish to know.”

 

“He came to see me. I will take care of him.” Nortrom replied, knowing the tower would carry his voice to Kael. If the mage was scrying, he’d see his old companion shuffle towards the door and step outside.

Magina awaited him at the end of the path leading up to the tower, and he didn’t look much different than he had years ago. Nortrom frowned, wondering how his friend had managed to achieve such a feat. When he had written to the Anti-Mage years ago, he had expected nothing in answer. Maybe a note of where his friend died. But Magina had replied, and agreed to meet him here, for old time’s sake, and maybe to patch things up between them.

The Anti-Mage never had forgiven him for his decision to leave with Kael, had he?

“Nortrom...”

Magina’s face was different. Softer, kinder. No longer the angry young man that wished to eradicate all magic from this world. He wore different robes too, only with decorative armor and a phoenix feather laid over chest and shoulder. Nortrom dug in his old memories, trying to recall what it reminded him of, but nothing came. As usual these days. He’d given up on being frustrated with his ailing body and mind.

“Magina...how are...you?”

The Anti-Mage embraced him promptly, youthful strength still abundant in his arms as he squeezed the frail Silencer to himself. It warmed Nortrom’s heart to be so readily embraced, and Magina was blisteringly hot. When was the last time a body had felt warm besides his own?

“Better than you look. What happened to the long elven life, hm?”

“It has its limits. But...you know, I didn’t think humans could cheat death with determination alone. What happened to you?”

Magina looked around and spotted the bench under the trees overlooking the ocean. With an arm around Nortrom’s waist, he guided him towards it.

“Come. Sit down. I have much to tell you.”

Nortrom didn’t argue, relieved to rest his bones as soon as he could. Magina took note of his demeanour, and it didn’t sit well with him. Nortrom had aged so, so much. He was but a shadow of himself, and yet he still chained himself to that tower and its terrible owner.

“I guess you want to know how I left being mortal behind.”

Nortrom’s attention focused hard on Magina. Immortal? His old best friend? That was only possible through magic, and he’d always resented it so strongly, how could...this be? He didn’t realise he spoke out loud until Magina chuckled.

“It wasn’t a spell, I can tell you. But when I told Wukong that I could die a happy man after the dead god was slain...well, that monkey does not take no for an answer.”

An eyebrow raised, Nortrom could still manage to look dignified and scandalized.

“The Monkey King? Why would he care?”

“He’s my good friend, Nortrom. Good enough to steal an elixir and defy deities.”

“...He stole an elixir of immortality from some deity for you?”

“Yes.”

“...Because he wants you to live forever?”

“With him, yes.”

Nortrom leaned back. He could not say that he saw that coming. That must be an extremely strong bond of friendship, if death was an unacceptable fate. Nortrom had not spent much time with the Monkey King in the war of the Ancients, but he seemed like a mischievous spirit. Almost a little demon. 

“That’s quite the story Magina. He must love you a lot.”

“He does. That’s what it means, you know, to be  _ loved _ ,” Magina cast a dark look behind Nortrom at the splendid elven tower. He didn’t need to say any more to earn a chastising look and sigh from the Silencer.

“Please do not make this an argument. I was enjoying this visit. It means a lot that you came to see me.”

“How could I refuse my old friend one of his last wishes? Nortrom...you should have written to me sooner.”

“Forgive me for that too. I am getting...forgetful.”

 

Kael angled his scry downwards to better watch the proceedings. He remembered the flicker of glee he felt when Nortrom had told the Anti-Mage to leave the first time around, and wanted to see a repeat of the incident - only to be disappointed. There were no caustic exchanges and instead they both sat under the eucalyptus groves with a peaceable manner that rubbed Kael the wrong way. He abandoned his research temporarily, eyes narrowed as he peered closer into the scry and listened with an attention for detail.

The conversation was boring, for the most part. Kael sniffed when the elixir was mentioned.  _ Pff _ . Probably a mere left extending potion and nothing more. What would a  _ monkey _ know about immortality?

There was no way  _ he _ could be the immortal the entries talked about. Kael refused to entertain the possibility for a second. He’d sooner toss the lodestone into the ocean before he accepted that.

“Nortrom,” his voice came from all around the grove, reverberating, “I thought I said to remove that, not  _ socialize _ .”

 

Magina may have become a mellower man throughout time, but the Invoker’s callous nature and condescending tone at all times could still rile him up.

“You can go fu-”

Nortrom’s hand muffled the rest of the angry declaration.

“He won’t be a bother. I won’t be much longer, Kael.”

Of course he would scry and listen in. Kael was a fixture in time, unaffected by the flow of it, unaffected by what happened around him. And still the Anti-Mage was a thorn in his eye. At least some things wouldn’t change. Nortrom only hoped they would continue to avoid each other after his death, when no one was left to intervene.

He took his hand off of Magina’s mouth when the man seemed calm again, though a sneer was clinging desperately to his face.

“He still treats you like this. Nortrom, I don’t mean to insult your life choices, but you deserved so much  _ better _ .”

“Magina, I thought we weren’t arguing about this anymore. I just wanted to see you. Isn’t that why you came here?”

“Yes...but how can I just sit here and smile, knowing you wasted your entire life on an evil creature like him? It hurts, and I bet he hurt you more than you’ll ever tell me.” 

Nortrom let his gaze wander out to the ocean. He could still see well enough to appreciate the serene beauty of it.

“I chose this. To fall in love with him. Do not blame him for it.”

“I will blame him for the rest of my existence for this. You’re dying and he has you shuffling around like a butler, commanding you like a servant.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I? Did you not ask me to come here to see you one last time?”

Silence was his answer and Magina too looked at the ocean, though he certainly wasn’t appreciating its beauty. He knew he was right, and now Nortrom was too old to ever know better than what he’d gotten. It was the Invoker’s fault and one day, Magina vowed to end that immortal bastard’s life. 

 

That was the last straw.

Kael was out of the tower and in the grove as fast the wind flew, looking distinctly displeased as he looked at the unlikely pair.  _ This _ was why he hated outsiders in his vicinity. They were rude, disruptive, and boorish - all crimes worthy of a quick death, if the wretched worm hadn’t been also Nortrom’s ill-thought out friend.

The warmth of the evening sun grew colder as Kael’s reagents flared up and frost grew on the grass under where  _ Quas _ floated. Nortrom had become as much of a fixation here as the tower was - who was  _ he _ to try and convince him away? Where would he go? He would loiter exactly where Kael left, like last time, and be miserable as he always was. Kael was doing him a  _ kindness _ .

“You,” he said frostily. “Shoo. Leave us.”

 

Magina was up on his feet in an instant. A few decades of peace on the mountain of fruit and flowers did not take away his instincts for battle, and this particular mage had him bristle with disdain.

“You do not command me, vile creature.”

If necessary, he could fight even without weapons, but he had come with his Manta blades strapped to his back. There was no magic he was afraid of, not intimidated by Kael’s reputation. They’d clashed during the War of the Ancients, and the Invoker had tasted defeat at his hands before.

“Calm down, please.”

Nortrom was still sitting, and it took him a long moment to stand up. It hurt Magina’s heart to see his friend in such a state, the simple weakness of old age didn’t suit Nortrom at all.

“I want to kill you,” he snapped in Kael’s direction, but he turned in case Nortrom needed assistance, “you have no idea what kind of gift you’ve squandered, you foul demon.”

 

“Demon?” Kael wasn’t going to take up the offer of a fight - why should he when he had every advantage? This area was saturated with his magic. If it came to a conflict, the Anti-Mage would be crushed. “You are as ignorant as you are unwanted. Now leave before Nortrom’s presence is no longer sufficient as a shield for you.”

He  _ really  _ should extend the wards further. Covering the whole island shouldn’t be too hard. Making note to look into that, Kael brushed past the Anti-Mage and to Nortrom’s side. “This is why I told you to tell him to go,” he said reproachfully. Was it  _ really _ so hard to ask for a repeat performance of last time?

He pressed a hand to Nortrom’s arm. Nortrom was a resident of  _ his _ tower, not a follower of a two-bit thug like the imbecile standing next to them. “This  _ will _ be the last time you see him, as you will never be allowed so near again.”

And of course, there was the matter of  _ how _ he found them. He would have to talk to Nortrom about guests - more specifically, the rule about  _ no _ guests.

 

"You ignorant fool!" 

It was enough for Magina. He wouldn't have any more of these idiotic stand-offs, Nortrom's weakness for the elf be damned.

He didn't need to blink, he was close enough to grasp the Invoker with his bare hands, magic reagents ignored even if they burned against his skin.

"Are you really so blind? Can you be even more of a bastard than I already know you to be? Nortrom isn't going to see me again because he'll be dead! And you kept him from everything he deserved! And here you are, posturing and acting as if your pride is the only thing that matters!"

"Magina!"

Nortrom knew Kael could well defend himself, but he really didn't want to bear witness to this unfolding. He tried to wedge himself between them, but found he lacked the strength. Not even a curse wanted to pass his lips. A flare of magic, be it Kael's or Magina's resistance to it, knocked him down. His body ached as if he'd been flattened by a collapsing building, just from the simple impact.

 

Anger shot up his spine, as strong as any liquor, and fire burst from Kael as he instinctively reacted to the unwanted grab. Nortrom’s plight was noticed after the Anti-Mage let go and Kael pushed him farther back again, firing off at least three different spells in his direction all meant to devastate anything they touched, before he moved towards Nortrom.

The wards of the tower flexed and one side shortened as the side they were on - north-west - stretched out to bar the Anti-Mage’s way.

“Nortrom,” Kael said, finding himself caring more for that fact that he’d  _ fallen _ rather than the offense paid upon him, “did he do anything to you?”

He didn’t seem to be immediately hurt. There was no blood or fractures, just shock. Soothing healing magic came from Kael’s hand anyway and pressed down into his shoulder. “He will die for this,” Kael said, incensed. Of course the  _ sole _ time Nortrom ventured out without his armor, he’d be hurt.

 

“He didn’t do this,” Nortrom muttered, breathing through the aching pain, soothed by Kael’s magic. His body rebelled to it, pushed it out when it should be soaking it in.

Magina had distanced himself only from the spells, not far enough to be out of sight.

“You did this!” he snapped, ready to throw himself into combat fully.

“Magina please, just...go. Live well.”

“Nortrom, no, don’t...not like this. Come with me. Please.”

Magina only had to look and he knew he’d be denied. His friend, under the heel of this hellish mage, would be meeting his death just like this. With the Invoker unable to appreciate or understand what he was about to lose. Magina could cry if it wasn’t for the presence of the hated elf.

“Goodbye my friend.”  the Anti-Mage conceded, throwing Kael one last, hateful look, before he blinked out of sight and the warded area. It would be the last time he saw Nortrom, of that he was sure.

 


	28. Chapter 28

Kael watched him go and it was only when he was well out of sight that his guard loosened enough for him to glance back down. He was no healer - medical diagnosis had been a skill thus unnecessary for him. Perhaps it was one he should pick up, if Nortrom insisted on getting hurt.

“Let’s go in,” he finally sighed, and didn’t wait for Nortrom to rise. Instead, a levitation spell pulled him up and after Kael as he strode back to the tower. A minor change to the wards made it so that they killed any intruders who touched the barriers rather than just hold back. Kael wasn’t in a generous mood anymore.

Setting Nortrom down on a divan, Kael sat beside him on a low backless chair, and let the tower fuss over them both. Potions and equipment were brought out, but Kael only accepted the potions. He uncorked a pain reliever and shoved it into Nortrom’s hand.

“That creature is incredibly accomplished at being loathsome,” Kael said once he was sure everything was set. His hand continued to glow, healing as much as he could. “I don’t know why you would let him near.”

 

It was a dull ache by now that had settled deep into every brittle bone, and Nortrom knew that this was not an injury set to heal. Kael’s magic would keep it at bay, perhaps, but his body was giving him his final warning.

Too soon, he could only think, looking at his beloved mage. It was too soon to leave him behind. He wanted a hundred more years, at the very least, to understand Kael even better, to be closer, more important.

“He’s the only other living being I’ve ever been close to. I wanted to settle our grievance before I go.”

Because he would, he could feel it, for days now. Maybe a week, maybe another hour.

 

“Go? Where could you possibly be going?” Kael pulled away only when he felt that he healed as much as he could. “You made plans?”

His tone was light, soft. The ugly feeling that rose in him was flicked away - Nortrom was free to go as he pleased. Neither of them made any promise to always stay close, anyway. As long as Nortrom came back when Kael called him, he was free to go wherever he wanted.

 

It took Nortrom a moment to realise Kael didn’t understand. And it hurt, but not in a terrible way. He felt like he was about to break some kind of illusion, like a child had. Kael, in his unending life and beauty, didn’t recognize the signs at all.

Nortrom reached for him, settling his hand over Kael’s. The difference in their skin alone was staggering, sobering to see. The lines and darkness of his like parchment against the smooth perfection of Kael’s.

“I’m going to die, Kael. Very soon. I can feel it coming.”

 

“Die?” Kael said the word like it was a curse, or something filthy. He blinked, affronted.

“It’s nowhere near time yet. Only a few years have passed.” Only… a century? Nortrom couldn’t be a day older than two centuries, which was a pittance of time. That was barely _anything_.

 _Mortal elves are lucky to live that long_ , his endless knowledge reminded him and Kael grit his teeth. No… that had to be wrong. What was a _century?_ How was anyone supposed to accomplish anything in such a fleeting span of time? Nortrom was supposed to stay longer than that. He wasn’t meant to go _now_ , just when Kael got used to his presence.

_That’s why they always have to go._

“This was not foreseen,” Kael said finally. Another ugly feeling clawed within him - this time in his stomach. It felt like a leaden beast, dragging metal spikes down his insides, pulling him down. “I did not _tell_ you to leave, Nortrom.”

Memories that should’ve remained buried welled up. Kael gripped the back of the divan for lack of anything else to hold. He’d forgotten this. The fragility of the mortal was something he always kept with him but not _this_. It’d stayed buried after he learned his lesson early on, and was meant to stay buried until the universe collapsed on itself and memories no longer mattered.

“How dare you remind me of this.” Kael’s voice was soft. This was what loss felt like. He meant to forget it forever, but emotions could not be easily purged like spells. It was a beast that was consuming him from the inside and now…

Kael looked at Nortrom with clear eyes. Not the ones that remained half-stuck to the stars and books, but for once, the totality of his attention zeroed in on Nortrom. Greyed hair, aged hands, loss of strength, of power, of life… mortals _never_ lasted. They died as they lived, died every day until their heart could no longer stay one step ahead of their demise. Nortrom was just a mortal, after all.

Just another… corpse, soon.

“You are not meant to… not yet. I am not _ready_.”

 

The dawn of realization was upon Kael, and Nortrom regretted every second of it. Never should the Invoker look so distraught, so defeated. And he was the cause of it. Now, Nortrom was not gone enough to blame himself for his mortality, but perhaps it would have been better to die silently and without notice. Would Kael have preferred waking next to a cold body, Nortrom already departed? He somehow doubted anyone would prefer it, especially not he himself.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, genuinely remorseful for making Kael feel anything. A younger Nortrom would have rejoiced, for this was proof the elf did care for him in his own way. That he was not as disposable as all the others had been. That he was something important to Kael. It was enough to make his eyes grow watery, the sweetest pain in his tired heart.

“I’m so sorry Kael, I don’t...want to leave you.”

Just a year more. Or a month. Nortrom would take anything at this rate.

“If you want me to...to leave the tower...” _so you don’t have to watch me die_. He couldn’t bring the words to cross his lips.

 

“Absolutely not,” Kael snapped, furious at the suggestion. He got up and paced around the room, clenching down hard on the emotions that threatened to overtake him. This was not how it was meant to go down. He wasn’t going to take this lying down. Nortrom dying? No.

Not until Kael deemed him ready. That wouldn’t happen now, or in the next century.

“You are not dying,” he announced, resolute. “ _Nothing_ can overtake me - not time, nor death. I have not told you that you may go yet, Nortrom, and dying is no excuse.”

He’d beaten death once already. He could do it again. He _would_ do it again. Nortrom was staying, regardless of what he thought of it.

He wasn’t going to lose him.

“I can undo the damage. Reverse the toll time has taken on your body. Most importantly, I can halt death itself.” Kael knelt near Nortrom, taking hold of his wizened hand. Disturbed by how fragile it felt, he forged on. “I would sooner make you immortal than let the world dictate what I _can_ and _cannot_ have. The Invoker bows to nothing.”

 

Kael’s rampaging emotion about this whole death business couldn’t be halted, and certainly not by Nortrom, who was simply lying prone and listening. He had gotten very good over the century, at listening to everything Kael didn’t say. His heart stirred and warmth bloomed through a few cracks of his surrender. He felt a lump in his throat. Kael didn’t want him to die. Kael wasn’t oblivious to the loss he was about to experience.

“I don’t know if I would suit immortality...but I would give anything to stay with you longer.”

Nortrom wanted to tell him over and over again how much he loved him, but Kael was working himself into either some sort of crazed decision or a frenzied outrage about the world cheating him of his belongings.

Nortrom gripped Kael’s hand as best he could. He knew the tale of Kael’s spell, the one of immortality. It had been forgotten before Nortrom’s grandparents were born.

 

“I am the Invoker. If I will it, it shall be.”

The Sempiternal Cantrap… forgotten in his youth, now needed again. The tower responded to Kael’s unspoken demand as everything in the tower not of immediate importance cleared out. The frivolous decorations and items vanished back into the lodestone as Kael’s old laboratory - before his inclination towards luxury began -  unfolded.

All his notes on immortality. Journals flew out; all containing the thousand tests he’d done on himself to further understand the nature of the spell he’d cast on his life. Kael’s purge of the memory had been thorough, but nothing was _ever_ out of his reach.

“Stay with me a while longer,” Kael said, and kissed Nortrom. “Then I shall banish your death as surely as I did mine.”

 

Nortrom only barely noticed the tower’s rapid change, the disappearing marble and gold replaced by wood and rows of heavy-set shelves. The flutter of journals was familiar to him now, but the vision of Kael over him, promising eternity softly, that was more than anything he could have dreamed up. The tears didn’t cling to his eyes anymore, running to find paths down the lines of his face. It didn’t matter if Kael succeeded or not. This, right here and now, this was the important part.

“I love you. More than anything.”

And he always would, even if death would end him and take what belonged to Kael. Nortrom could rest, like this. He closed his eyes, content to wait what fate had in hand. It was a race between Kael’s brilliance and time. He wouldn’t bet anything against his beloved.

 

Days passed. Kael forewent sleep and sustenance as he worked with a mad kind of fervor that only geniuses bracing under a deadline could muster. Nothing interrupted his concentration as he went through all his old notes, found the experiments he’d done to discover the spell, and began to work. The reagents were laid aside. They were good tools and allowed him a massive range of spells under pressure, but nothing could compare to the power of raw magic.

No mnemonics. No grimoires. Just magic’s oldest, purest form and Kael’s own endless talent at manipulating it. The Sempiternal Cantrap was a spell that froze something beyond time. Those who performed the spell were forever in a bubble where time both moved and did not move, giving them immortality that was superior to any creature with fast regeneration or simplistic magics. This was _true_ immortality.

He never left Nortrom’s bedside after that. All his work was conducted near him, in sight of him. Kael tracked his vitals was an intense focus, refusing even the slightest dip in his health with a barrage of healing potions and spells. The deadline would be pushed as far back as it possibly could.

This was nothing like his irritability with the Archronicus. Kael’s moods were dark and he worked himself up to feverish heights when a test failed and he had to start over. A part of him exulted at the challenge, but most of him was driven by the constant loss that forced him into Nortrom’s arms, holding him tightly as Kael pressed his head to his chest and counted his heartbeats to know Nortrom wasn’t dead. The tower helped as needed but stopped getting in his way. Instead, it dedicated itself to Nortrom’s care as well and barely let him move without supervision. Just like its master, it handled loss poorly.

A week passed. Kael was starting to swear steadily and his hands shook constantly as he no longer took care with how much magic he channelled. Broken desks littered the back walls from when his temper got too explosive.

“Why can’t I remember the bloody thing?!” A tongue of fire scorched the desk’s surface. “My memory fails me. Me!”

The spell… the spell... He needed the damned spell now!

 

Nortrom spent most of this time sleeping. His body was kept in a constant state of light exhaustion, and he suspected if Kael wasn’t pouring spells and potions into him, it may have given up by now. He wasn’t always asleep, however, and when he managed to open his eyes, Kael was there. Working harder than he’d ever seen him try at anything, and also with less success. Never in the two centuries he’d known the elf had Kael failed to understand a spell, or recall it. Then again...he’d only used this once.

When Kael wasn’t swearing or destroying something in a mercurial fit of anger, or casting with more reagents than Nortrom ever recalled, he was in Nortrom’s arms. A cool lump of life, pressing close, more mortal than he’d ever seemed before. Nortrom tried to speak with him, once or twice, just whispering senseless promises that he wouldn’t die before Kael succeeded, but they rarely managed to make it past his lips.

Sometimes, he just held Kael’s head to his chest, stroking golden hair and understanding that he was, in fact, loved. Or at least such a part of Kael that his death was a terrible fate that the Invoker sought to avoid. It fulfilled Nortrom like nothing else.

“Kael...”

The fits were worse, the hand-shaking when Kael touched him too. The Invoker was running himself ragged.

“Come here...just for a minute. I have one to spare.”

 

“No!” he snarled over his shoulder. The next test was going through and he forced his trembling hands to keep still as he slowly worked the delicate magic. This was it, he could feel it. If he accomplished this, the matrix for the original design of the spell would be set. Then he’d need to make it compliant with the time-subversive measures - “Shit.”

The unusually crude word slipped out before Kael could reign it back in. When had he last sworn? Three millennia ago? Now it was a regular on his mouth as his frustrations grew.

A portion of the frame collapsed, but that was fine. That could be rebuilt. He just needed to keep going -

“NO!”

It was his hand, he knew. The blasted thing started to shake again, just as he passed over the most fragile part of the magic and the whole shattered like sugar-glass, leaving nothing but wisps of magic behind and the bitter taste of failure.

His hands. _His hands._ His faithless, useless, burnt out hands that shook at the worst moments, when he needed them the most. The greatest mark of his weakness. He would never recall the spell at this rate. As long as his abilities failed him, as long as he kept up the rate of failure after failure after failure then. Then.

Nortrom would die.

He cursed again when a lump that wouldn’t go down curled up in his throat. His eyes stung and quite suddenly he was leaning against his desk, barely holding himself up with shaky arms, shoulders quivering, feeling his face grow wet and hot with more anger. His hair hung around him, akin to a funeral veil.

For once, the perfect poise was gone.

 

Another explosion of Kael’s temper and magic, dispersing in white hot embers around the room. Nortrom held out a hand, catching a wisp that died out immediately in his hand. He could feel, see and hear the frustrations, and it hurt to know Kael was in pain after all these years. Maybe if Nortrom had spoken earlier? But he couldn’t have known Kael truly had no vision for mortality.

It took him a good five minutes to sit up, and another ten to gather strength and move across the room. Each step was accompanied by a hollow little breath, but the distance was worth crossing. Never had he seen Kael this defeated, by anything in his life. Never had he seen a tear cross that perfect skin, let alone because of him. It was shocking and humbling and fueled him with the need to come to the aid of his beloved.

Finally, after what felt like a small eternity itself, he reached the desk. Gently, he draped a hand on Kael’s shoulder, traveling over his neck and tugging hair back behind his ears.

“...Kael, it’s alright,” he muttered, placing a kiss on the Invoker’s head, before his hand reached down until it could rest on Kael’s.

“I can still help,” he continued, before he brought the misbehaved limb to his lips, whispering the softest of curses to the delicate fingers.

 

“What - Nortrom, no - you shouldn’t be moving around -” Kael tried to marshal his poise but it slipped out his tenuous grip. He wanted to conceal his weakness but Nortrom was here, by him, to take away the quiver in his hands like he always did.

Always _had_ , soon.

More rebellious tears managed to claw their way out of his tightly closed eyes. Kael bit down until the sobs were stifled, and held onto Nortrom tightly. Once a strong bastion of unending support, now he felt like a structure of sand that a strong gust of wind could blow away. “I don’t want you to die,” he confessed into Nortrom’s neck, loud enough to be heard. “I - I _love_ you.”

 

Nortrom couldn’t count the moments in which he’d wished to hear exactly those words out of Kael’s mouth. They could probably amount to years put together, and right now he’d banish them all just to find some way to make Kael stop feeling terrible. It wasn’t fair he should feel elation and salvation when Kael was suffering. After he’d stilled the familiar tremble, Nortrom wrapped his arms around Kael. Just because he wasn’t strong and reliable anymore didn’t mean he couldn’t hold his beloved. How much time they’d wasted...his entire lifetime. And yet, Nortrom wouldn’t trade it for all the world.

He didn’t want to leave Kael alone. Dying...his death would throw Kael back into loneliness, let him drift out to that uncaring place once more, when he deserved so much better. One damned spell stood between them.

“I love you. I wouldn’t want to have lived my life with anyone else.”

That was too final, wasn’t it? No, he didn’t want to give this up. Not now. Not now that Kael had finally, finally seen through his own necessary ignorance. Nortrom was stubborn. He didn’t want to go, not yet. Not now that his terrible, wonderful Invoker had deigned to notice what they could have had all along. Nortrom’s wait was at an end, and he would have shed a tear or two himself if he didn’t think it would cost him too much energy to cry. Not now.

“You can do this. I know you can. You’ve never let anyone be the master of you before. I belong with you, don’t I?”

 

“You do. You do.” Kael held onto Nortrom until he felt himself calm, and the raging tempest of his emotions still enough for him to work. He pushed Nortrom away, gentle, and let the tower do the rest. “You must rest,” he said, “and I will make you immortal.”

Thoughts on confessions could wait. The _world_ could wait. It was time for Kael to make a miracle.

 

It took another week for Kael to finally perfect it. In that time, Nortrom slipped farther and farther away until he slept permanently, only held onto the living plane by Kael’s tight chain of spells and potions. Kael worked silently once Nortrom slipped away, tirelessly laboring to build the spell, until one night he struck gold.

It was late night, though it hardly mattered to Kael after he stopped tracking time. Years could’ve passed outside and he wouldn’t have cared. The only thing that mattered was Nortrom and his immortality.

“You will join me soon,” Kael whispered to him softly. The Sempiternal Cantrap - deceptively simple despite its power - was ready to be cast. It would take Kael another three days to perform. He could feel exhaustion biting at him, but sleep wasn’t acceptable now when Nortrom was threatening to die at any moment. He already looked doll-like, still in his bed, and Kael would never forgive himself if he passed away while he took a nap.

“I love you, be it in life or death,” he said a final time, as confirmation of his leap of faith, and began to cast.

 


	29. Chapter 29

Waking up was never all that pleasant, even when one had been sleeping what could possibly be their final night of rest. Nortrom was sure that whenever he opened his eyes again, he would be witnessing whatever brand of afterlife held true. Some kind of floating sky palace? Or just a distant, light-filled shore? Elves had a hundred different thoughts on such things, and Nortrom had not been a fan of any of them.

Some part of him, however, wanted it to be true. Perhaps in death, he could watch Kael for eternity. Love from beyond the grave would be the best he could give. Yes, even in death, he could be what Kael needed him to be. A memory for at least four of his lifetimes. He was at peace. Truly. Even if he never wanted to leave Kael, like this, it was acceptable.

He just never imagined that he would feel so corporeal in his deathly awakening. Or have the weight of another on top of him.

Nortrom opened his eyes, surprised by the ease of it. He'd gotten so used to his eyelids protesting the early morning work. 

Maybe his spirit form felt like a body?

The sight of the inside of the tower was disturbing. Was he going to look down and part with his mortal, decayed form? He risked a glance.

Golden hair was sprawled across his vision. Fair, cool skin rested against his chest, a beloved face at peace, slumbering.

Kael. Nortrom's heart ached sweetly and he raised a hand.

A very much un-wrinkled hand, strong and young as it had been in his best days. Nortrom touched his own face. It felt solid enough. Real. Also not old.

He cupped Kael's face, gently, and that too felt real. Could...could it have worked? Could Kael really have done the sheer impossible?

Nortrom sat up rapidly enough to send his head spinning, but he couldn't care less, tugging Kael up into his arms and squeezing him tightly into his embrace, a disbelieving laugh escaping his mouth.

He wasn't dead. He was the furthest from dead anyone could get! Kael was the greatest mage in the world, and now, he would never be alone again.

 

Kael woke with a start. For a second, his mind scrambled to place itself. What… the spell! Nortrom! He must’ve fallen asleep but… had it worked?

The arms around him said so.

Disbelieving despite his faith in his abilities, Kael twisted around to get a better look at Nortrom. He touched his face and arms with an almost desperate air, affirming everything he’d thrown himself out for. Nortrom was here… young, hale, and alive. He was  _ here _ . He was  _ alive _ .

“You…” Kael couldn’t finish the sentence, for once in his life. He embraced Nortrom, and reveled in the strong body under him. He was  _ back,  _ restored and glorious again. “You’re alive. I didn’t fail… you’re… you’re  _ alive _ .”

To his mortification, he felt tears spill out again. No matter how he tried to stop it, they flowed down his face as Kael found himself both laughing along and blubbering in relief.

He wasn’t alone anymore. He wouldn’t be, never again.

 

There was nothing else that mattered right now. Nortrom wrapped Kael deeper into his embrace, relief tugging at all of his self-control. He was young, again, as permanent as his beloved, forever. The concept continued to elude him, return to him, then escape once more.

Kissing Kael was the only cure for it, and it worked a treat. He couldn’t have resisted the vision of the Invoker smiling so genuinely anyway, and hoped the image would burn itself into his eyelids. He vowed to make Kael happy, in any and every way he could.

“You did it. I love you, I love you so much.” He squeezed his face against Kael’s neck, placing fervent kisses on flawless skin. 

 

In this blissful relief, Kael could say anything. Even confess the love he’d blurted out in his agonized desperation, because all was well in the world and Nortrom deserved that much after suffering Kael’s blindness for so long.

“As do I,” he said, hands grabbing at Nortrom to keep reminding himself that this was real and he hadn’t imagined it all in a dream, “I love you.”

The first person he came back to… and the first person he would  _ stay _ for.

Kael tried to mop up his tears with the back of his hand, and pulled Nortrom up from his frantic worship to kiss him on the mouth, as long and hard as they used to.

 

He came willingly, pausing only to wipe what tears remained from Kael’s face. It was too beautiful a moment to ruin with a discussion on the long time it had taken Kael to realize that Nortrom was more. That Nortrom was his companion, to remain for as long as the Invoker himself endured.

Nortrom adjusted his grip, having Kael slip a little closer until he could feel their chests bumped together and keep the beautiful elf right there. He was ravenous to touch Kael, to be as intimate as they could be. More than thirty years had passed since he last got to be Kael’s lover in the truest sense, and some part of his returned youth could not be silenced for long.

With a playful nip to Kael’s bottom lip, Nortrom tried to lighten up the clinging, heavy mood of the Invoker, who didn’t seem inclined to let go of him ever again. Their kiss faded in favour of breathing, and Nortrom leaned their foreheads together.

“You couldn’t have made me beautiful for eternity too, hm?” the sly little smile, he didn’t try to hide at all.

 

“I prefer you like this,” Kael said, still touching Nortrom with a sense of wonder. It was like the clock had been rewound for him. Gone was the stoop in his back and the salt that overcame the pepper in his hair. This was the Nortrom of a century back, full of vital energy and vigour that time had stolen from him piece by piece. How could he have so easily missed the signs?

For him, immortality had been only a change of life span. His face and body had barely altered itself. But Nortrom was… “You’re beautiful, just like this.”

Being reminded of everything he’d shed could be forgiven, this time. Nortrom hadn’t left him. Kael could let himself remember if it meant having Nortrom like this.

 

Kael couldn’t possibly have any idea what his words meant to Nortrom. To the young, ugly, rejected Nortrom growing up in the Skytower, made in Kael’s image, yet as far from it as any elf could be. And here was the ideal, the summit, the epitome of elven achievement and beauty that outshone the sun, desiring him. Calling him beautiful. 

It wasn’t as if he needed a compliment after everything Kael had done for him, but it moved Nortrom nonetheless. Short ears, hooked nose, lined face and dark skin be damned. Kael _ loved  _ him. 

“As long as I please you, I would not change a thing about myself.” 

Especially now that he had been given another chance at his peak. Eager fingers slid thin layers of robes off of Kael. Now more than ever, Nortrom wanted to see and worship all of him. He bowed his head, trailing kisses over cool skin.

 

Kael let himself be undressed, was even eager for it. The clothes slid off his body and he returned the favor as he pulled away Nortrom’s clothes. Now, more than ever, he could remember just how  _ long _ it’d been since he’d enjoyed time in Nortrom’s grip. He hadn’t thought to question it after it petered off - another regret to add to his slowly growing mountain.

Now, what had formerly been Nortrom’s imminent deathbed was their place of celebration. Kael straddled him, hips falling back into a rhythm that had been lost for so long, while his hands and eyes eagerly re-explored Nortrom’s body. The frailty had been banished utterly - nothing but corded muscle, thick and powerful, remained and it made Kael as wondrous as he was grateful.

“I missed this,” he sighed, smiling.

 

“As did I. You might say I have been mourning this for some time,” Nortrom kissed him again, bringing Kael as close as he could possibly get as his free hand reaffirmed that Kael’s body was indeed, flawless. He sighed with bliss as he followed the curve of his ass. Alright, perhaps there had been a bit of regret in the later years of his life. Kael never complained about the rejections, but Nortrom’s passion certainly had suffered.

“Are you prepared to share eternity with me, Kael?”

Like this? Nortrom could certainly spend forever, just like this.

 

“I know I am.” Naked and glorious, Kael descended on Nortrom with a ravenous hunger.


	30. Chapter 30

It’d been morning when Nortrom awoke, rejuvenated and eager. Now it was nearing sunset. Bands of orange and pink light pierced through the windows as Kael lay, curled up next to Nortrom, sated and drowsy. Their legs were tangled together and he ached pleasantly, feeling well worn out after recovering his much younger, much more energetic lover from a hundred years back. In this blissful piece, an interruption would likely have been obliterated.

Which was why the tower was it was his home and companion when it intruded on their time together.

“Shoo,” Kael grumbled when he felt the spine of a book prodding his back. He’d managed to perform a minor miracle in just two weeks - that warranted some kind of resting period, surely. But that would not be. The spine was digging into his back, the cold leather unwelcome between the rumpled and warm sheets, and Kael tried to shove it out with no avail. It somehow managed to shift, just enough that he couldn’t get a good angle to brush the damnable book out of their sex-fuelled haven.

“What?” he asked begrudgingly, but the tower offered no answer. When he twisted (and added in some pleasant rubbing himself against Nortrom, because he  _ deserved _ it), he found the most unwanted sight in the tower awaiting him.

The Archronicus lay there, innocent and beguiling, and Kael used his magic to throw it out.

No. No more mysteries!

But it was back. Near his foot this time, as insistent as before.

“Artifacts,” he spat, “damned  _ thinking _ artifacts.”

Around them, the tower slumped.

“Not  _ you _ .”

 

“Are you talking to a book?” Nortrom surfaced from where he’d been resting underneath a pile of pillows for reasons unspoken. He felt more limber than he had in a century and even after the marathon performance of the day, he would not tire of Kael. He sat up, hair a tangled bird’s nest and body still shimmering with sweat from exertion. Eyes bright, he sighted the Archronicus.

“It must be important if it wants your attention so desperately, my love.”

Nortrom held out a hand in invitation for the ancient book that had watched over his stay at Aeol Drias. It sprang up and opened, pages fluttering furiously until the last entry lay in front of them. The ink was midnight black and stood stark against the paper.

 

Kael gazed at it in a combination of disgust, amazement, and more disgust. The entry was filled out with words, thick and dark, unlike the disappearing act they’d been pulling just days go. Kael felt the urge to banish it once again, but his curiosity won out.

“Read it for me,” Kael demanded, dropping his head down into Nortrom’s lap. After spending years obsessing over the last entry, seeing the book again was too soon. There were more important things going on here than there were in the book’s final, ridiculous entry.

 

Nortrom rested a hand on Kael’s shoulder, thumb stroking gentle circles against the nape of his neck as he settled back into the pile of pillows, the ancient book kept in one hand with ease.

“In the dawn, a new immortal was born to join his timeless fellows in their unending observation of the world. Made by magic, he comes to join the side of another immortal in their longest vigil. Tied together by their love, they will exist when all else has fallen. All things are unsure - except they. Immortality is the last and first gift to be bestowed before the last stand begins.”

He smiled. It was about this.  _ Him _ . He and Kael, together, would be the Immortals to observe the world. The two of them, forever removed from life, greater than it all, and yet not a part of it. They would always know each other, and never again feel alone. He couldn’t think of a bigger reward for unending years of loving dedication.

 

“It was  _ you _ ,” Kael said. He was simultaneously impressed and further disgusted with the Archronicus, and he pressed his face into Nortrom’s thigh so his conflicted expression could not be seen. 

“I should have  _ known _ . It was so obvious - it led me back to you. It was fading away when you were  _ dying _ . How much more obvious did that thing need to  _ be _ ?”

Did it please him to know that their love was significant enough to be marked down in the most important history book of all time? Yes. Did it please him to know it took Kael  _ this long _ to understand that? Not. At. All.

“Put it away, dear,” he said. He had quite enough of that book for at least one more lifetime.

As if on cue, the Archronicus vanished. To where and why, neither knew. Its job here was done and it had taken itself away to a new land to witness a different landmark moment in history than the one that had taken it a century to write five sentences.

“Should’ve burned it,” Kael muttered darkly.

 

“It brought you back to me. I’m inclined to be grateful.” Nortrom chuckled, pulling Kael up for another long, lazy kiss. They had eternity together now, he could afford to lounge in bed and forget the world entirely. After everything that had to happen to get them to this simple, wonderful understanding and state of being, they deserved forsaking reality for another decade, give or take.


End file.
